The Chalk Girl
by CMXC
Summary: When a Vandalist was brought to Dr. Crane's court, she reveals her intention of bringing hope back to Gotham in the name of the Batman. But the moment her identity was revealed, old memories resurface and she finds herself caught between two villains - Both Executioner and Judge - wanting her for their own agendas. Rated T/M for certain chapters. No Flames!
1. Prelude

**The Chalk Girl**

**A/N:** So I decided to create a The Dark Knight Rises fanfic after my brain won't stop pestering me to make one. I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk.

WARNING: Flames will not be tolerated and rating may go up in certain chapters of the story for disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

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**Prelude: Hope**

When I was first brought out into the world, the city was under a blanket of white. Cold, white snow poured down from the clouds to my feet. They tickled my skin with a freezing sensation, but they never failed to bring a warm smile to my face.

My Mother told me that when I grew older, she would teach me how to ice skate at the rink. But for now, we settled to drinking hot chocolate and making snowmen at the front porch. My Father gave me the name "Eleanor" because to him, I was his light born from his darkest hour. Thus, he hoped that I would be able to bring the same hope to others.

I used to believe in that too. Until the day they were taken away from me. And I found myself in the company of a monster born from the city's corruption. He was cruel, pumping pain into my veins, tasting every inch of my body. He relished in my fear alone, whispering into my ear how he enjoyed making my parents suffer. How nobody could save me. By then, I knew that the man who hurt me was not human. He was a monster born from Gotham's corruption and insanity.

The blood-curdling screams of my mother being tortured etched in my mind. The monster made me watch as she convulsed, screamed and foamed in the mouth. Slipping in and out of consciousness, I watched as her head fell limp to the side, her dead eyes staring right at me.

It was the first time I lost sight of hope.

Then he came to save me. In the midst of my despair, he rose from the shadows as the Dark Knight, striking the monster down and freed me from my binds. I was cautious of him yet curious. He was a wanted man - A vigilante who murdered Harvey Dent. Why would he save me?

With his grappling hook, he held me by one arm and flew us up to the rooftop. After settling me down and informing the cops, I asked him, "Why did you save me?"

The knight stared at my bruised face, standing stoic. Turning around to face the city, his black cape flew in the wind. As the sirens blared from below, I heard my father calling me. Then the knight in black muttered…

"Its what I do to save this city."

And with that, he was gone. Gone like the wind. Staring at his fleeting form, I still remembered how beautiful the city was from above. Lights glowed and sparkled from the skyscrapers and broody buildings. The pain from before was washed away by the city's beauty. I was reborn from the power of Hope.

Eight years have passed since he disappeared. Now, the city was a winter kingdom ruled by a tyrant. After the truth of Harvey Dent was revealed, Gotham was on the verge of burning to the ground.

Even though my Saviour was no longer here, I believe he would return one day. For now, I shall be his messenger, branding Gotham with his mark to keep the flames of hope alive.

My name is Eleanor Chalk. My Saviour was the Batman. And I am his Messenger of Hope.

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Thanks and please review! :D


	2. Messenger

**The Chalk Girl**

**A/N:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk. Wish I did though, Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy were awesome.

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and rating may go up in certain chapters of the story for disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

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**Chapter One: Messenger**

Even thought it was the afternoon, the air in Gotham was still freezing. My woolen scarf was all that kept my face warm. As I finished my third chalk graffiti on the brick wall, something smacked against my butt. I flinched at the coldness and laughter exploded behind me. Realizing who the culprit was, I whipped around to glare at him.

"Very funny, Aerosol," I grumbled, dusting the snow off my back.

The young boy with blue goggles laughed again, clutching his stomach. He was no younger than sixteen, with a toothy grin and messy brown hair. "Sorry Chalk… Couldn't resist."

"Riiiight…" A smile stretched across my face. "You finished yours already?"

Aerosol grinned and stepped aside to present his graffiti – a cartoonish Batman gliding with his cape spread out - painted on the brick wall. Below the portrait was a colourful caption: 'I WILL RETURN! FEAR ME!'

I smirked. "Nice."

"I know right? Imagine the faces those Mercs will make when they see this!"

"Let's not go jinxing ourselves now." I drew a few strokes across the surface, creating a white bat. "They're the last people we need in this alleyway. The last time I remembered I had to drag you through the sewers twice before we lost them."

"Meh, I still think I could have taken them on my own." He snorted.

"With what? Pepper spray?"

Aerosol flustered. "Its not my fault that Sticker's spray cans were in the same bag as my paint cans!"

I chuckled, pocketing my piece of chalk. "Come on, the others are waiting for us back home."

Aerosol nodded and opened the manhole in the corner. He went in, and I followed, closing the cover as quietly as possible.

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A young detective strolled down the road, eyes shifting left and right for signs of Bane's men. He knew the streets were dangerous. Mercenaries patrolled with their rifles and Tumblers, hunting down the local enforcement. But he couldn't ignore those in need of help. Upon reaching the allocated apartment, he rapped on the door. An elderly woman cautiously opened it, eyeing the man in fear. He flashed his badge.

"Detective John Blake," The detective said, fishing out a photo of a rugged man in his late fifties. "Is Mr. Chalk here?"

The woman sighed in relief and she allowed him in. "Room 302," She said.

Blake nodded and headed up the stairs. When he found the room, he dusted his boots on the mat and knocked.

"Coming, coming! God damn it." He heard the old man swore.

Moments later, the door wrenched open and a man in his night robe and unkempt hair greeted him. The grey-haired man stared at Blake wide-eyed.

"Mr. Chalk?"

"Y-Yes, that's me."

"We spoke over the phone." He held his hand out with a smile. "Detective John Blake."

Mr. Chalk shook his hand back in surprise. "B-Blake? Oh thank goodness you are here."

"No problem, sir. You said you needed help? Something about your daughter?"

Mr. Chalk sighed wearily, motioning Blake in. The four-room apartment was small. Dirty pastel walls stood barren, with paint chipping off around the edges of the windows and the ceiling. Photo frames were placed downwards on top of the cabinets. The rest of the living room was filled with a tattered sofa, a broken television, a radio and a square oak table. The window had a view of snowy streets and abandoned apartments.

"My wife always said that this room had the best view. But now, I can't even look outside without feeling sick," Mr. Chalk grunted, popping open a bottle of Scotch. From his pocket, he handed Blake a photo of a young girl – mousy brown hair, pale white skin and baby blue eyes. Her lips pursed in an awkward smile.

"She always kept to herself, never talked much since my wife, Gwen, died. The Scarecrow kidnapped them while I was out. That mad man tortured her, drugged her... eventually the pain was too much," Mr. Chalk grimaced. "She watched her mother die from drug overdose before he... he… " His voice trailed off, unable to continue the rest of the story.

"… I'm sorry."

"Ain't your fault. Damn psycho made her watch everything. After the Bat saved her, she's held him as her freakin' Idol."

Blake raised a brow in interest. "In what way?"

Mr. Chalk walked over to a door, pulling it open. Inside the room was a messy bed, with a small study desk, a broken roller chair and a shelf. But what surprised Blake the most was the sheer number of bat symbols covering the entire room - A pattern of bats drawn with white chalk.

"And this was with only four pieces of chalk."

Blake whistled.

"Rehab Doctors said it was OCD. Helped her cope with the trauma. Walls, floors, furniture… in the end, our old house was not enough. She always got pissed if I scrubbed off her drawings," Mr. Chalk chuckled sadly. "But she never hated me. Said she could draw a better one next time. The therapy helped after some time... But it was her way of dealing with pain."

For a moment, Blake was impressed. Yet at the same time, he couldn't help but feel pity. Seemed like the Batman was all that had kept the girl going. "Where did she go?"

Blake watched as the man downed another glass of Scotch.

"God knows. She moved out two years ago to her friend's apartment. They used to be in college together. Or something like that. But my gut is telling me that she's going around vandalizing the streets of Gotham as we speak."

Blake pondered for a moment, fishing out an envelope from his coat. "I went to check the case files based on the info you gave over the phone. If what you said is true, she might be a part of this."

The Detective took out the files and spread them across the square table. Mr. Chalk opened the files, reading in astonishment.

"They called themselves the "Messengers". A couple of vandalists believing themselves to be Batman's believers. Spread his message 'creatively' as tribute to his battle against crime. Guess that's why the cops didn't like them until the truth of Harvey Dent was broadcasted. Each member seemed to be dubbed after their choice of medium for the vandalizing acts. And from what I heard, your daughter is their de facto leader."

Mr. Chalk glanced through the photos, settling his glass down. His eyes lingered at the blurred shot of a girl in white.

"E-Eleanor…" His lips quivered in fear. With shaky hands, he grabbed Blake's sleeve. "You have to help her. Please!" He pleaded.

"I'll do whatever I can to get her off the streets. But for what its worth… she's bringing hope to the people who need it. And right now…" Blake held the hand on his sleeve, staring at Mr. Chalk in the eye. "Gotham needs that Hope."

The old man gulped, releasing Blake's sleeve. "Its not her actions that I disapprove of. It's the dangerous company she would meet that's keeping me awake every night."

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It was quite late in the evening when we reached the apartment. I tapped the door with the secret Morse code, but no one answered. Frankly, I just thought the guys had fallen asleep after a long day from their usual routine. But the fifteen minutes of silence proved me otherwise. No texts, no panic yelling from Stickers. I was getting worried.

"Isn't it Marker's turn to watch the house?" Aerosol quipped.

"Yeah…" I replied uneasily. In the group, there were six of us. Each day, one of us stayed in Headquarters to keep a lookout for cops, mercs or looters. Sunday was for anyone who wanted to volunteer to defend our home base or to just chill out.

Unfortunately, Sunday was yesterday.

"I'm gonna go by the backdoor. Aerosol, you stay here in case anyone opens the front door."

Aerosol nodded with a mock salute, and I ran around the back. Climbing over the wooden fence, my boots landed with a soft crunch on the snow. Walking over to the back, I noticed the secret ladder leading to the second floor was unlocked and left dangling from the window. My face paled. _'Damn.' _

Quickly, I climbed to the top, pushing the window up and slid one leg in. After slipping into the room, I scanned my surroundings. The lobby was in mess. Food was scattered everywhere, Slurpee cups were tipped over with the dining table and the television was broken. My breath hitched at the multiple holes sprayed across the white walls.

Could the Mercs have found us already?

There was no time to think. I had to find the others quickly. I had to know that they were safe.

I was about to move to downstairs when I noticed blood smears splattered on the sofa. Along with a hand laid on the floor behind it. The black arrow ring on his middle finger pointed out who it was.

"Marker?" I hurried over to him, only to gasp in horror at the sight. Marker's lifeless body was sprawled on the floor. His black skull t-shirt was covered with bullet holes, forming a puddle of blood underneath him. His silver piercing had been forcefully wrenched out from his tongue and nose causing blood to pour from his lips and broken flesh. His eyes stared at the ceiling, bloodshot with pupils dilated. He was dead. Looking under the sofa, I found his handgun. One of the intruders must have kicked it away from him before shooting him down. My stomach twisted in a knot.

"Stickers? Guerilla? Pastel?" I called out their names. After a cold silence, I proceeded with the search, arming myself with Marker's handgun.

The apartment was desolate, a complete ghost town compared to its usual liveliness. The door to the practice room on the first floor was obliterated with bullet holes. The smell of charred chalk wafted in the air. Colourful walls of graffiti were smeared with streaks of blood. The material boxes were smashed and shot. Some reduced to ashes. My shoulders slumped at the sight. How could anyone destroy our paradise?

Checking every nook and cranny around the house, I finally stumbled upon a door left ajar on the right. Raising the handgun, I walked cautiously towards the door, taking big but slow strides across the living room. As I approached the door, a lump went down my throat. Unfortunately, the horror was just beginning.

In the bathroom on the first floor, Guerilla was strangled with the showerhead's metal tube. His body was completely submerged in the water. He drowned, no doubt, with erasers choked down his throat. The words "You Suck" were sprayed on the mirror above the sink. My fingers balled into a fist.

'_Damn it… Where's Pastel and Stickers?'_

Suddenly, I heard a click behind me. The sound of an AK-47 rifle cocked at the back of my skull. My limbs froze in place.

"Drop the gun, Hoodie. Now." An unfamiliar voice ordered.

I cursed in my head, dropping the handgun to the floor.

"Now turn around slowly, with your hands behind the back of your head."

I did as I was told, following the Merc out into the living room. In cruel glee, he kicked my calf and my legs buckled to the ground, landing on my knees. The Merc grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing me to look up. My eyes widened as I met face to face with Aerosol, who was held hostage by another Merc. A pistol pressed firmly against his skull.

Shit.

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**Hope you enjoyed this Chapter! :D**

Please Review! No Flames!


	3. Worth

**The Chalk Girl **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modeled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** Hi everyone! Really happy about the feedback I've been receiving about the fanfic and my OC. If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer.

First of all I have to apologise for the long wait. Had to revise through my character after discovering a few hiccups in my earlier plot planning. Adding on to the stressful block was my internship projects.

Got a few ideas since my recent weird dream of Scarecrow (Yup, Cillian Murphy with the mask and tux). Let's just say it was like a morbid horror movie trailer. Hell, Scarecrow even killed someone right in front of me and it was anything but fun. Especially when he became possessive of me… OAO (That I did NOT expect.) Also, Christian Bale made a cameo, with a very, very surprised "WTH" face. You can guess the expression on my friend's face. It was priceless. XD

So yeah, I'll definitely be updating more chapters soon! :D

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

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_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

"_She always kept to herself, never talked much since my wife, Gwen, died. The Scarecrow kidnapped them while I was out." _

"_They called themselves the "Messengers". A couple of vandalists believing themselves to be Batman's believers. Spread his message 'creatively' as tribute to his battle against crime."_

"_And from what I heard, your daughter is their de facto leader."_

"_I'm gonna go by the backdoor. Aerosol, you stay here in case anyone opens the front door."_

"_E-E-Eleanor… You have to help her. Please!"_

"_Stickers? Guerilla? Pastel?"_

_Click!_

"_Drop the gun, Hoodie. Now."_

_Shit._

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**Chapter Two: Worth  
**

When your mind senses danger, it activates the fight and flight system, pumping adrenaline into the body. I should be sweating by now, breathing deeply and shaking my limbs. But even with the gun aimed at the back of my skull, I simply stood calm and cautious of my surroundings. I wasn't worried for my safety at all. I was worried for Aerosol.

The New York boy only joined our group six months ago, eager to go wild in the city of Gotham. His real name was Aaron Russell. He was a fan of the Bat. Just like us, he saw Batman as his inspiration in life when the doctors announced his Leukemia. He looked up to the Dark Knight with great idealism, hoping to one day set the same inspiration of goodness for others. He was just a hazel-eyed boy with wonderful dreams.

Now he was going to be killed because of my carelessness.

"You guys have been a real pain. Spreading your garbage everywhere," The Merc drawled.

"And I supposed Bane ordered you two to finish us off?"

I winced as the Merc smacked my head with the gun.

"Shut it, Bitch! You're not worth his damn time."

"Leave her alone!" Aerosol yelled, only to be silenced by the second Merc's gun pressed harder against his skull.

"Pipe down, kid. You bat-crazed worshippers had this coming."

He was ready for another protest when I sent a silent glare at his direction. His eyes cast a demand for answers but he quickly bit back his retort under my constant glare.

"What did you do with the others?" I demanded.

"Oh those two chicks?" The Merc behind me began to circle around like a vulture flying around its prey. Quite a fitting animal for his bald head. Eyeing down at my body, he flashed a yellow toothy grin. "Well we have something better planned for you girls."

"Yeah payback for those shitty clean-ups," the second merc chortled, licking his lips. I was repulsed by the greedy lust in their eyes.

"Hey while we're at it, let's use the kid here for our next target practice."

Horror flooded Aerosol's eyes, his breathing visibly shaking with fear. I reassured him with a calm gaze.

"You see the Boss doesn't like your work. Every time we fail to catch you guys, he makes us clean up your mess." He snapped his head at my direction, reloading his gun. "Do you know how hard it was to wipe all that shit with only one bottle of thinner?"

I remained still as the bald Merc ranted on, blocking out his annoying babbling. My mind processed the multiple scenarios in my head. Close combat was out of the question against two armed Mercs, especially in such close quarters. Plus, Aerosol was unarmed and vulnerable. One wrong move and he would be killed. Judging from how they got in, most of the apartment traps were either destroyed or disabled. Which means either Bane's men got smarter, or someone sold us out.

"HEY! Are you listening to me?"

I cranked my neck up at the pissed Merc. His eyebrows creased downwards into an irritated frown. "Don't get smart with me, girl! I could blow your head off right now!"

"If you could, you would have done it the moment you caught me," I deadpanned.

Pissed, the bald Merc grabbed me by the collar, shoving me against the wall. A soft click activated behind my boot - A hidden button on the wall leading to an unsprung trap.

Just then, the barrel of the bald Merc's gun cocked firmly under my chin. "I'm tired of your freakin' bitching. You better start showing some manners, girl, or I'll make you!"

As the mechanism behind the wall whirred, I smiled inside. Staring down, I narrowed my eyes at the furious man. "Do you honestly think I'm just a penniless vandal who will become your _**slut**_?"

The shaven-headed Merc smirked. "Well for starters, your friend's got a loaded gun to the head. Aren't you gonna beg for his life?"

The clicking and whirring of the trap grew louder, traveling from the wall down to the floor below us. Just one more step towards me, and he was finished.

"Vandals or not, we got our own rules."

The countdown to ignition whirred below the Merc. His eyes darted to floor, growing unsettled.

"And as a Messenger, I don't take orders from the authority or enemies of the Bat. Especially from Bane's _Cleaning-Lady_."

The infuriated Merc swore, bared his teeth and took a step forward. His finger barely squeezed the trigger when his boot slammed against the hidden motion sensor. A black enormous paint-ball gun elevated from the trap door below us, catching the Merc off guard. Swiftly, I shoved the gun's barrel away from my chin, and deliver a nice head-butt to the Merc's shiny temple. He tumbled to the ground, dropping his rifle as well. As the Paint-ball gun came to life, multi-coloured paint ball pellets riddled the first Merc's body.

The Merc yelped in pain, while the Second Merc fumbled in shock. Quickly, Aerosol kicked his captor in the nuts, bringing the Merc down to his knees. The boy was running towards me when the weakened Merc behind him brought his rifle up.

"Get down!" I yelled, pushing Aerosol to the ground.

The AK-47 rifle sprayed bullets across the front door, tearing holes through the wood and plaster. Hiding behind the sofa with Aerosol, a bullet barely grazed my shoulder. The paintball gun fired again at the second Merc. In the heated exchange of bullets, the Merc let out a cry before a loud blast ricocheted across the room. I gritted my teeth shielded Aerosol's body with my own. Then, there was nothing but silence. Removing myself from Aerosol, I wondered if the battle was over.

"That all ya got?" The second Merc taunted loudly.

I cursed. The smell of smoke wafting in the room confirmed the demise of the paintball gun. The First Merc was probably knocked out by the blast, but the second one had got us cornered. Things were starting to look grim.

"You got nowhere to run! Surrender now and maybe I'll go easy."

Under the building pressure, I simply couldn't think. Paranoia picked up every sound. Every crunch of the approaching boots. Every beat of my heart pounding against my chest. We were out of luck. And the footsteps were slowly get louder and louder.

Just then, I noticed Aerosol crouched on one knee, searching through his backpack. "What are you doing?" I hissed.

From the bag, he fished out a spray can and a lighter. Realizing his plan, my face paled. My fingers barely caught his jacket as he leapt out from behind the sofa.

"AEROSOL! NO!"

A loud bang rang in the apartment.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Blake was on his way to meet Commissioner Gordon when he heard the shots. He sprinted around the corner, turning left down the alley and then right into an abandoned intersection. The gunshots came from the brick red apartment, just two buildings away.

By the time he reached the front door, the gunshots had stopped. He twisted the doorknob frantically, cursing when he found it locked. Blake took a step back and drove his heel near the lock. After two kicks, the wooden door finally gave way. He noticed a bullet shell on the floor just ahead of him.

'_Great, more Mercs…'_

Blake took his gun out, entering the building with caution. He aimed the gun left and right, checking the corners for signs of gunmen. Upon entering the lobby however, Blake stood in shock of the sight.

The entire room was splattered with paint. Walls were bullet-ridden, some smeared with blood. Two Mercs lay sprawled on the floor - One covered in colourful paint, the other with a badly burnt face, lying on his stomach. Blake slowly approached the Mercs, poking the first body with his shoe. He was alive, just barely. His eyes followed the trail of blood drops leading from the Merc's body to the back door. A photo frame hung on the wall next to it. Though there were splatters of paint over it, Blake recognized Eleanor. The building was the Messenger's hideout after all.

'_Where did she go?'_ He wondered.

Seeing no injuries on the Merc's back, a curious Blake flipped him over. His eyes stared down at the body in astonishment. The Merc's burnt face was twisted into one of agony. His skin was charcoal black. His eyes had rolled over, exposing the white virtuous humour. Blood poured into a puddle below from the stab wounds on his right arm and left foot. Blake counted at least twenty of them. Quickly, he whipped out his cell phone and dialed.

"Gordon, its me, Blake. I think you might want to see this."

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"Just hang on, Aerosol. It'll be ok!" I urged, trying to stop the bleeding on his chest.

Aerosol coughed. Blood slipping from his pale, white lips. "C-Chalk… fe-fe-feeling c-c-cold..."

I ripped the scarf off my neck, wrapped it around his shivering shoulders. Aerosol coughed again. The bleeding wasn't stopping and I had no tools to get the bullet out.

"W-Where are we?" He asked.

"In the Sewers. Have to stay low from those damn Mercs."

Aerosol stared painfully at me, breathing heavily. "T-The Merc..."

"Threw my old Swiss knife at his leg and pinned him down. Stabbed the damn bastard on his right arm," I muttered coldly. "He won't be able to use it for awhile."

Aerosol smiled weakly. "Nice."

I tried to staunch the bleeding with a towel I grabbed earlier from the bathroom. But it was no use. The blood wouldn't stop oozing from his chest, flowing on the concrete floor.

"Ch-Chalk…"

"Save your strength! I need to get something to stop the bleeding."

"Chal-" Aerosol coughed abruptly, stunning me for a second. I didn't want to face the truth. I didn't. But with Aerosol's Leukemia, he hadn't had much time to live. Yet… I wanted to save him. I wanted to save him so badly. I didn't want to watch another person dear to me die.

Aerosol shakily reached for my hand, placing his glove over my blood-stained hands. He smiled wearily. "I-Its… n-not your fault…"

Tears welled up in my eyes, falling down onto Aerosol's glove. I clutched his hand in quivering silence.

"D-Do you think… h-he'll come back?"

I stared at him in the eye. Biting my lip, I nodded fervently. Aerosol smiled.

"T-Thank… you…"

His hand fell limp to the side. His eyelids closed gently, almost as if he had fallen asleep. And then he was gone.

I never cried so hard in my life. Not since my Mother's death. Though I had hardened myself over the years against the face of Death, it was the death of the innocent that would never fail to make my knees go weak and my heart to falter.

Aerosol was the most innocent boy I had known in Gotham. And probably the last shred of innocence left in this corrupted cesspool.

I wiped my tears away and laid Aerosol's arms to fold upon his chest. With my scarf, I wiped the blood away from his face, chest and gloves, washing the crimson red liquid in the cold sewer water. After Aerosol's body was cleaned up, I placed the scarf around his cold body. Then, I took out my chalk from my pocket and began to draw the wall next to him. From the bottom, I drew the white bats forming a bridge above his head. On the bridge, I drew Aerosol riding a giant white bat towards a colony of bats and clouds.

"Chalk?"

I continued drawing, knowing the voice behind me too well.

"Stickers. Glad you are safe," I said.

"I heard the gunshots and ran as fast as I could." I heard her gasp. "I-Is he…"

I drew a wing. "Mercs got to him."

She kept quiet, not utterly a single word. I figured she was holding back her tears. Finally, she broke the silence. "What are you drawing?"

"Heaven." I ended the last stroke and gazed at the masterpiece. "At least, a place Aerosol deserved to go."

Stickers walked over to the front, staring at the drawing in awe. Her dirty blonde bangs hid her reddened eyes. She turned to me with a soft smile. "Its beautiful."

I nodded, pocketing the chalk back into my coat.

"So where do we go now?" Stickers asked.

"To find Pastel. Speaking of which, did you went out with her today?"

"Nah. I stayed back at home to watch base. Markers overslept big time."

"Oh." I dug my hands in my pockets. "Did Pastel tell you where she went?" I asked.

"Yeah. Her usual routine around the cinema."

"Ah I see…"

Stickers sighed.

"Just one problem." I whipped out my Swiss knife and pinned Stickers against the wall. The side of the blade pressed against her neck. Stickers stared at me, wide-eyed.

"Pastel only goes to the cinema on odd days of the week. Monday's an even day."

Stickers panicked, breathing hard. Beads of sweat dripped down her neck to the metal surface against her neck.

"I'm not really sure what the hell is going on," I muttered lowly, pressing the side of the blade harder against her neck. A small trickle of blood seeped out of her beige skin. "But I'm running out of patience. Where's Pastel?"

Her expression of fear diminished, soon replaced with one of arrogance. I glared at her. "Why Stickers? Why sell us out?"

She tipped her chin up, glaring back in defiance. "Because you went against our code."

A heavy weight hit my head from behind and I fell to the ground in pain. In a second, the world before me vanished in darkness.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Bane stood outside the door, watching the interrogation of a woman in the cell. His men had caught her after an ambush on her way home, identifying her as the Second-in-Command of the rambunctious vandals.

He had never expected them to be mere children, but he could not tolerate anything of the Batman. Especially since, Gotham was now his to burn to ashes.

Bane figured that their leader was more cunning compared to them. The older ones were always more experienced, being able to elude his men for so long. Yet in the end, he knew the game would have to end somewhere.

After four minutes of cursing and shouting, Basard – his second in command -walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

"How did it go?" Bane asked.

"She's a tougher nut to crack. But my guess is that she was the one spying on our activities during her vandalizing routine."

Bane glanced behind his shoulder at the raven haired woman. She was drenched in a dark purple trench coat and striped stockings. Her eyes were a radiant midnight blue, glaring back at them in fierce defiance.

"Should we send her to Dr. Crane, sir?" Basard asked.

"No, let her stay in one of the cells. We will need her as leverage against her leader. If her second-in-command is this loyal to her, then she would definitely do anything to keep her safe," Bane pursed his lips behind the mask. "Did you get a name at least?"

Basard shook his head.

"Loyal till the end, I see. No matter..." Bane paused, eyeing the woman in the cell darkly. "If they are so adamant in their naïve ideology, then they shall receive their due punishment tomorrow."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Finally introduced Bane and my friend's OC! Rest assured, I will be putting Dr. Crane soon. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Do leave a review so that I can produce the next chapter! :D

Plus if I get enough reviews, I'll put in something delicious in the next chapter! So let's say we aim for a "20" at least?


	4. Morality

**The Chalk Girl**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modeled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** Hi again! First of all I would like to thank the readers for reviewing. Since we have reached way past the "20" mark, as promised I'll be bringing the delicious content. (Insert random evil laugh) Secondly, I wanted to apologise for the late update. I was down with sore throat and a close shave of a fever – thanks to the load from my intern work.

If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer.

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

"_You see the Boss doesn't like your work. Every time we fail to catch you guys, he makes us clean up your mess."_

"_AEROSOL! NO!"_

"_Gordon, its me, Blake. I think you might want to see this."_

"_Where's Pastel?"_

"_My guess is that she was the one spying on our activities during her vandalizing routine."_

"_Why Stickers? Why sell us out?"_

"_Because you went against our code."_

_WHAM!_

"_No matter… If they are so adamant in their naïve ideology, then they shall receive their due punishment tomorrow."_

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**Chapter Three: Morality**

Commissioner Gordon entered the scene, spotting Blake inspecting the body in the lobby. He strode towards the young detective. "One wounded and one dead? Are you sure we are talking about vandals here?"

"Checked their files, sir. The only one with a registered weapon is one of the dead bodies upstairs," Blake informed him. He stood up and placed his hands on his hips. "These Mercs broke in and butchered two young men. Obviously targeted them for their activities." Blake gave him a look. "You know how much they hate the Bat."

Gordon concurred with a nod, keeping his eyes on the body. "So what's the damage?"

"Face burned and multiple stab wounds on the left leg and right arm."

"You think one of the survivors did this?"

"At first. Then I saw the blood trail behind him and this." Blake bent down and pulled the collar down from behind. A large gapping hole had pierced the man's neck. "Bullet pierced through the spine and throat. Kill shot did him in before he could succumb to the wounds. Rifle found next to him."

"Suicide over bleeding out," Gordon concluded. "What about the other Merc?

"Knocked out by a paintball gun."

Gordon stared blankly. Blake smirked, jabbing his thumb at the broken weapon behind him. Gordon whistled. "For a group this young, they sure have skills."

"Yeah. But with all these booby traps, how could the Mercs have got in so easily?"

Gordon smiled. "Well you are a Detective now, I think you can figure it out."

Blake grumbled.

"So where's the other one?" Gordon asked.

"He woke up and fled upstairs. Put up one hell of a fight. I had to knock him out and tie him up in one of the rooms with my cuffs."

"I'll try and get him to talk. You go find out whatever you can on this group. If the rest of them are still alive, Bane and his Mercs will be after them."

Blake nodded in agreement. He knew where to start. As unpleasant as it was, he knew he would have to pay a visit to Mr. Chalk soon.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

My head still ached from the hit. A groggy feeling filled my mind, but I managed to shake it off. My legs staggered, wobbling towards the light. My hands felt around the darkness, discovering a circular metal object. A doorknob. The door creaked eerily as I pushed it open. I soon found myself in a familiar lavender blue hallway. The walls decorated with family photos and wooden oak doors. I realized that I was in my old house.

A small noise caught my attention from the second door on the right. A thin line of light shone through the gap under the door. Carefully, I tiptoed, making sure not to make a sound. The wooden floorboards felt cold underneath my feet.

At the door, I reached for the knob. Hesitantly, I twisted it and pushed. The door was unlocked, opening with ease. Inside the room, light flooded it through the windows. As I stepped into the light, I recoiled in horror with a shriek.

A ghostly woman sat on the rocking chair with her head slumped to her left. Her face was chalk white, her skin shriveled like a prune. Long blonde hair withered, dangling in front of her eyes. The pupils in her grey blue irises were dilated. Her mouth stretched in a silent scream with foam and saliva dripping from her ghostly pale lips to the floor. On the pole beside her was an IV bag connecting to a needle in her left arm.

"M-M-Mother!" I cried, rushing to her side. I shook her shoulders and checked her pulse. My heart sunk into a pit and I fell to my knees. Leaning my head on her lap, my shoulders shook uncontrollably as I sobbed.

"...your… fault."

All of a sudden, two hands grabbed my throat and hoisted me up. My lungs gasped for air, as I struggled to break free from the vice-like grip around my neck. My mother glared with cruel icy eyes.

"It's all YOUR fault!" She roared.

"N-No!" I choked. Her nails dug deeper into my throat.

"Of course it is, you stupid child! You brought _HIM _here! If it weren't for you, I would still be alive! I won't be dead, I w-"

A sudden gunshot cut her off. My Mother – in shock - stared down at the bleeding hole on her abdomen. In a matter of minutes, a crimson fountain spurted from the wound, unleashing other unworldly contents. She screamed in agony and released me from her hold. I landed on the ground with a heavy 'thud' while my mother clutched her stomach. Her face scrunched into an expression of excruciation pain. I watched in horror as she tried to staunch the bleeding with her clothes, only to allow more red juices and slime to gush out from her stomach.

I was frozen with fear in my spot, watching her panic – knocking down the pole and her chair, tearing the IV drip needle from her vein while deliriously screaming and gasping. It was like a scene from a horror movie came to life. My will to cry out was lost in that frightening moment. My Mother let out one last bloodcurdling scream before crumbling to the floor. Her body shuddered before laying still. A pool of blood formed beneath her, staining the wooden floorboards. A cold silence filled the room, mixed with the smell of blood and death. My voice finally cracked with a whimper.

"You shouldn't cry for her."

A man in a tux strode into the room. He wore a burlap sack over his head, stitched poorly around the eyeholes and the mouth. His cerulean blue eyes stared straight into my soul, threatening to suck me in. In his hand was a pistol.

"I had planned to give her a more concentrated dose. But it seemed that her mind could only take so much," He casually remarked, placing the gun on the cabinet next to him.

With each step the killer took towards me, I backed up against the wall. My breathing grew erratic, heart pounding against my chest. Fear had seized me the moment cold sweat broke out from the pores of my skin. The man stopped right in front of me, sauntering towards my trembling form. Not once did his cerulean eyes break away with mine.

"W-Why?" My lips quivered.

He raised a finger to caress my cheek. "She was mean to you, Eleanor. Don't you see?"

The man crouched and leaned down to my ear, whispering in a chilling tone.

"I did it **ALL** for **YOU**."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

"NOOOO!" I shot up from the bed, breaking out in cold sweat.

The grimy room was cramped and dirty, only able to fit two people. At the foul smell, my head throbbed.

"Man, that must have been some scary shit of a nightmare."

I turned to the direction of the voice. Beside my bed was my raven-haired best friend. She looked rather roughened up - her coat slightly torn at the end and her hair ruffled in a mess.

"P-Pastel?" I stuttered in surprise.

"The one and only." She grinned. "How are you feeling?"

My smile dropped along with my shoulders. The memories of the recent events hit me. As I retold what happened, Pastel held her temple in disbelief. "Oh God…"

I lowered my gaze, head bowed down in sorrow. "I tried to save them, Pastel, I… I'm sorry."

Pastel bared her teeth, rose up from her seat and kicked the chair.

"Damn it!" She cursed, turning to the front door. "You're not getting away with this, you dickheads! You hear me? When I get outta here, you'll be sorry!"

"Pastel…"

Just then the guard opened the door, annoyance written all over his face. Pastel would have lunged herself at him, if it weren't for our incoming visitor. Stickers came striding in with all her glory. A skimpy black tank top and lacey skirt, matched with high-heeled boots.

She nodded to the two guards. "You two keep watch."

They nodded and stationed themselves at the back of the cells. Stickers' entire appearance was such a contrast against her previous wardrobe. Her dolly-bird demeanor had been replaced by arrogance and greed. Stickers was no longer the innocent girl I knew. She was a traitor and an accessory to murder.

Noticing how hard I was glaring at her, Stickers replied with a lipstick-coated smirk. "Feeling comfy, Chalk?"

"Quite the opposite actually."

"Good. Because _that's_ how you should be treated." She emphasized on her words bitterly.

"Stickers!"

"Stay out of this Pastel," Stickers spat. "This is between me and our 'leader'."

Pastel was appalled. The outburst was unexpected from the ex-Goodie-Two-Shoes. I looked hard at her, wondering how it all came to this. "Why?"

"Because I hated you," She said. "You were always a Hypocrite. Going against our code behind our backs. Everything we stood for was a lie. The Batman doesn't kill, but you… YOU were willing to play with our hopes and lives for your own sick desires."

"Who the hell filled you with that shit?" Pastel demanded.

"Bane. He told me the truth - About how the Batman was already dead. About how he was not coming back."

I steeled myself to remain calm. I had heard rumours of his death – a few from Pastel's spy routine. But I refused to believe that they were true. If the police had not given up on him, why should I?

"Then again, you are a strategist. Every thing is like a chess game to you, isn't it? You're nothing but a cold-blooded woman who would use others as pawns for her own agendas. Your kindness was nothing but a mask to hide that black heart of yours!"

"You sent those men to kill the others… Markers… Guerilla…Even Aerosol…"

No, YOU killed them! I LOVED Aerosol like a brother! I…" Her voice trailed off. "I didn't want him killed."

Then she glared again. "But all he ever talked about was you. How great of a leader you were. How _cool _you were! How _compassionate_ and _understanding_ you were… Like a mother!"

A pain swelled in my heart at the word 'Mother'.

"He did what he did because he wanted to protect what's left of our home," I defended. "He was family. I would never want to hurt him in any way."

"You're not even related to him! But Bane," Her voice softened. "He was so understanding. I was angry at first that he killed the Batman but he was gentle. He didn't mind if I brought Aerosol along."

My blood froze over at her love-sickness. Dear Lord, she was in love with the tyrannical terrorist.

My eyes narrowed at her. "Aerosol would never work with Bane."

Her head snapped at my direction. "You Shut up! I waited for years for his return. But the Batman never once showed his face after Harvey Dent was killed. Wake up, Chalk! The Dark Knight has abandoned us! The Law lied to us about Harvey's death and you're still hung up on what Scarecrow did to you!"

"Sticke-"

"Everyone should just go burn in hell!" Stickers yelled.

Pastel and I watched as Stickers panted, before composing herself. It was the first time she had let out all of her feelings – the bottled up emotions. Though I knew Bane was responsible for corrupting her thoughts, a part of me felt guilty for not realizing how she really felt. And so I made one final attempt of reason. Damn my soft-heartedness.

"Don't you get it? Bane is gonna kill us all! And he will kill you too once your purpose is done."

Stickers giggled darkly. "I don't think so… Considering that Bane is MY lover."

Pastel lunged at her, but the mercs held her back. "You F %#'in SLUT!" She yelled.

Stickers laughed maniacally. "Enjoy the rest of your time left, guys. I have a feeling you will be on _thin ice_ real soon."

The Mercs threw Pastel to the ground, following Stickers from behind. Her laughter echoed from the corridor as the guards slammed our cell doors shut.

"Chalk, are you gonna let this Bitch just walk away?"

"She has an army of men at her beck and call for now. Plus, those thugs in the front don't look intent on letting us escape."

"So what do we do now? Wait for our 'Death by Exile' sentence?"

The both of us sat in silence for an hour, watching the guards and random passer-bys. The screams of struggling prisoners sent shivers down our spine. I scratched my chalk across the floor.

"I know that look," Pastel said.

"What look?"

"Your eyebrows are frowning downwards and you are scratching the floor with your chalk. That usually means you got something on your mind."

I kept the chalk back hastily.

A look of concern flashed on Pastel's face. "Did something happen after Aerosol got shot?"

I bit my lip. Pastel sat down next to me, her lips pursed.

"Was it… someone else?"

I gripped the hem of my pants tightly.

"Chalk, seriously. I know what you do when someone dear to you gets hurt. It was related to your PTSD, right?"

"Y-Yeah…"

"So tell me. You can trust me, man. I never left you after the college, so I'm won't leave just because you did something." Pastel smiled warmly.

My lip curled up at the side awkwardly. "What will I ever do without you…"

Slouching against the brick wall, I stared at the ceiling. The old light bulb hovering above us lit dimly. I took a deep breath.

"After Aerosol was shot, I just… I just snapped. Even when I got the Merc pinned down, I wanted him to pay for what he did. I wanted to kill him. So I stabbed him. On the right arm that pulled the trigger. I stabbed him again and again, slamming the knife into his skin. I didn't care about the blood on my gloves or his screams. I just wanted him to die. It was like something else took over me."

I lowered my gaze to Pastel.

"That was when I heard Aerosol's voice. He called me. Told me to stop. Told me that it was enough, that this wasn't what the Batman would do; this wasn't what I would do. That's when I snapped out of it."

Pastel's eyes softened. "Eleanor…"

I brought my hands to my face, sobbing. "I almost killed someone, Kelsey. I broke our code."

"But you didn't. You spared him in the end, right?"

I swallowed back my tears, sniffling. "You remember that time I told you about Scarecrow?"

Pastel nodded.

"Even after all these years, I never forgot what he did. I still can't forgive him for all the things he had done. I still had that old map of the asylum he was locked in hidden in my drawer. Sometimes, I had take it out and imagine the many tactics and routes I could use to silence him once and for all."

Pastel remained silent as I weakly smiled.

"I remembered how angry you were when you found it. You grabbed me by the collar and talked some sense into me. And when I didn't listen, you punched me in the face. You reminded me about the others' concern about me. About family," I chuckled. "Guess if it weren't for you, I might have done something real stupid."

Pastel's lips curled up at one end. She bumped my shoulder with her fist. "Now that's the Eleanor Chalk I knew back in college."

I smiled back. Suddenly, something outside caught my eye. I walked over, standing on my toes to peek through the small window on the door. A guard strolled by, holding a bowl of soup and a bottle of pills. Something shiny jingled from his belt.

"Chalk?"

A smile formed on my lips.

"I got a plan."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Crane sat on his chair, bored out of his mind. Upon slamming his gavel down, Bane's men escorted the pleading aristocrat out of the court for his due punishment. Adjusting his glasses at the list, a long sigh slipped his lips.

Jonathan Crane should be feeling satisfied, but he wasn't.

He had gained power. He had gained control. And most importantly, he was feared. As the Judge over death he had a few interesting cases – some amusing, others just plain pathetic. Special cases came by rarely, where he can take the punishments further than just 'Death or Exile'. His lips curled up at the thought. It was at times like those, in which he was glad Bane gave him full control of the courts.

Unfortunately, the thrill of watching bugs die grows mundane after a few weeks.

Crane rested his cheek against his palm, letting his mind wander. Drifting away to the past where fond memories were locked away in his mind. He remembered them all – the screams and faces of his victims. How Falcone trembled in his presence back at the interrogation room. How the citizens of Gotham would panic whenever Scarecrow came out to play.

Then he remembered _her_.

Eleanor Chalk.

Her father was his college professor and colleague from the asylum. She was waiting for his shift to end outside his office. A routine conjured by her father no doubt.

She would sit on that chair. Her head bowed in submission, eyes cast to her feet. Sometimes, her nose would be so deep in a book, that she wouldn't even notice he was there, until he cleared his throat. She was so timid and so obedient. Once when their eyes met, she would quickly look away to hide her blushing face.

"_Do you like Literature?" Crane asked, out of the blue._

Eleanor would poke her head out of the book, shyly nodding and tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. Crane thought of many reasons behind her fascination with the literary world. When he questioned her, it wasn't her reply that caught him off guard. It was her voice – A soft, honey sweet lullaby.

Crane soon felt drawn to her. He wanted to know more about this quiet little bookish girl. He studied every inch of her behavior, every detail of her appearance and history, burning them into his mind.

Over time, Eleanor had warmed up to him, in their occasional chats. Even when he was in a foul mood, Eleanor would try to cheer him up or assume it was her fault for his current mood. Despite his initial annoyance, he always noticed how her smile would send his heart racing.

It wasn't until Christmas did Crane finally realize his feelings for her. That was the night she confessed to him. Or rather, kissed him on the cheek before running off in the speed of light. Crane was far from flattered. He was utterly surprised and confused, having spent a week reasoning over her rash impulse as that of a young adult naïve of Gotham's harsh reality. He was grown man in his mid-twenties, and Eleanor was only nineteen. A relationship was out of the question. Yet, he couldn't get the girl out of his mind. And soon she was all that filled her head during work.

Innocent, quiet and surrounded by an aura of mystery. She never failed to keep him guessing. And when she appeared in his dreams…

Crane shuddered, a coil forming inside him.

He knew he had to claim her as his. He had to. That's why he stalked her to her house and snuck into her bedroom. But just before he could taste her lips, her mother barged in – drowsy, but armed with her broomstick.

Crane never liked that woman. She was dreadful and a pain to listen to. Though their appearances were somewhat similar, the older woman was the complete opposite of her daughter. She reminded him too much of his grandmother - minus the religious fanatic personality. In fact, Eleanor's mother was the reason why the girl stopped visiting the asylum. To add to insult, Batman had him locked up in his own damn asylum.

Crane seethed at the very thought.

So he hatched a plan, escaped from Arkham and dealt with her. All for his love. His desire. His sinful pleasure.

By the time he noticed Eleanor, she was cowering against a wall. Teeth clenched and tears leaking from her baby blue eyes. She was literally reeking of fear. His intoxicating aroma therapy.

Logic never bond well with the concept of love and lust. However, he knew that Eleanor wouldn't accept him as Scarecrow. So in the heat of desire, Crane threw away all logical reasoning, grabbed both sides of her face and kissed her. He swore he saw heaven when their tongues mingled and bodies collided.

He remembered her screams. How she moaned from every time he marked her. How she cried and banged her fists at his chest in anger, her soul fighting with the morality of their act. The way she flinched and her thighs pressed together were sinful enough to send a shudder down his spine. Along with a tent forming on his pants. Despite her size, she had fought well – thrashing under him, struggling and beating against his chest. If he had not gassed her earlier, Eleanor would have shot a kick somewhere very painful. She was aware, but dazed and frightened. That was when she was most vulnerable to be controlled.

As he climbed over and held her in his arms, everything fell into place. It was like a dream to him, when they made love in the bed. Hips grinding, lips devouring soft skin that tasted of honey and milk. And finally, reaching an ecstatic climax, they had become one.

He closed his eyes briefly to relish the moment. Taking a deep breath of the memorable scent of her fragrant shampoo.

Crane never wanted her to be touched by another man since then. He wanted her to look at him, and only him alone. He took precautions of course, not to spill anything inside or at least don a condom. There was no need to burden her with a child then. It was the last thing the both of them needed. But the first night… the first night was an exception.

Sadly, their love story came to an end when Batman tracked him down, knocked him out and sent him back to Arkham. He had never seen Eleanor again since that day. Now that her father had retired, Crane had no way of returning to his love. He wondered if she had moved on?

'_Eleanor… My sweet girl. When we meet again, I swear I will - '_

"Judge!"

Crane's lips twitched, snapping his head at the Mercernary below him. "What?" He growled. Noticing the next defendant behind the Merc, he sighed and pushed his glasses back. "Alright, what shall it be? Death or Exile?"

"Errr…"

"What was that? Did you say Exile?"

The man flustered. "W-Wha- No! I haven't eve-"

"Fine!" Crane slammed the gavel down, a cold smirk on his face. "Exile it is!"

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

"HEY! ANYONE THERE! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"

Pastel heard the door being unlocked from the outside before the guard slammed it open. From his face, she could tell he was very annoyed. "This better be good."

"Its my cell mate. I think she's got a fever."

The guard looked over behind Pastel's shoulder, spotted me lying on the bed wrapped with her trench coat as a blanket. "H-Hey there…" I weakly greeted, before breaking into a coughing spree.

"You gotta be kidding me," He grumbled.

"Seriously she's burning up. I wrapped her with my trench coat but she's still shivering."

The guard eyed her suspiciously. "And why should I care?"

"Because if you don't, Bane won't be able to interrogate her. And who will he blame when she's dead?" Pastel folded her arms, shooting him a serious look. "You."

The guard's face paled, the frowned in annoyance. "Stay here", he grunted, closing the door.

A few moments later, the guard returned, with a glass of water and a packet of pills. Shutting the door, he walked towards the bed, offering the meds. "Here, pop one of these and sl- "

In a split second, I grabbed his arm. The guard raised a brow and chuckled. "Oh no, I ain't fooling for this trick."

I blinked. "Trick?"

"Yeah. You're gonna try and seduce me, then knock me out, steal my keys and escape," The guard pointed out confidently, grabbing my hand roughly. "Well guess what, you little minx, you will never escape. Not with that kind of stupid plan."

I winced at the pain on my wrist. Looking up to the jerk, I managed a smirk. "Well I give you credit… you _almost_ got it right."

Before the guard could react, Pastel knocked him out with the chair from behind. The man groaned in pain, falling into a heap on the bed.

"That's for locking me up in this stinky room," Pastel huffed.

I snatched the keys from his belt and kicked him off me. After we left the cell, I locked it from outside. Just in case the guard woke up sooner than planned.

Pastel grinned. "Nice. Now what?"

"HEY!"

We turned around to see another guard had spotted us. He aimed his rifle at us. "Drop the keys and put your hands in the air."

I dropped the keys to the floor and we did as we were told. The bearded man kept the gun on us, moving closer to the key. From the corner of my eye, I saw a red lever. The sign above it read: **FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY**.

"Move. And I'll shoot." The guard warned.

As he bent down to pick the keys up, I dashed towards the lever, pulling it down. A siren went off and every cell door simultaneously opened. The sign of freedom sent prisoners fleeing their cells in joy. The guard cursed and shot at me. I dove to the ground, dodging the spray of bullets. Pastel grabbed the guard by his arm and kneed in him the gut. She snatched the rifle away from his grasp, slamming the butt of the gun at his nose. The guard crumbled to the ground, holding his throbbing nose in pain. Amidst the commotion, footsteps approached from the end of the hallway.

"Come on!" she yelled.

I followed Pastel down the opposite end of the hallway.

If this was just like any prison in the world, there had to be a prison sewer system. It would be a manhole leading to the sewers. But it was outside. According to Pastel, she was brought in via a secret entrance at the basement. Unfortunately, security would be too tight for that area. So Pastel suggested an alternative.

Through the maze of the prison block, we ducked and ran, racing right and left past cells and offices to hallways and corridors. Running down our third hallway, the guards were on our heels spraying bullets. At a fork path, I turned to her. "Which way?" I asked.

"The right! It should be around the corner!"

Following her directions, we reached a corridor alongside the restrooms. On the left, there was a hole on the wall surround by a metal frame. "This is it! The laundry chute should get us out in no time."

Walking closer to it, a nauseating smell invaded my nostrils. I held my nose in disgust. "Pastel, I don't think that's the laundry chute."

"Huh? What are you talking about…" Pastel's voice trailed off when she caught a whiff of the stink. She recoiled in horror. "OH GOD NO! I am not going through that!"

"But it's the only way out."

"Chalk you know how much I hate germs and filth! I mean the cell was bearable, but the Garbage Chute?"

There wasn't much time for debate. Footsteps echoed not too far away from our position. And I had no intention of losing another friend. I took the rifle away from Pastel and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Pastel, you trust me right?"

"Erm, yeah."

"You know I cherish you as my best friend right?"

"Well, duh. What the heck are you getting at Chalk?" Pastel demanded, worried.

I smiled back. "Then you should know that as a friend, I can't afford to lose you too."

"Wha-"

With all of my strength, I pushed Pastel into the chute – head first, then torso and a final slam against her boots. Her voice echoed down the shaft, soon growing softer and softer. "Goodbye, my friend," I whispered softly.

The approaching footsteps and cocking of guns alerted me of the guards' presence. I turned around to greet them - Dropping the rifle, as a sign of surrender - raising my hands in the air. Under the long silence, death seemed inevitable for me.

"Stand down." A low voice commanded.

The guards lowered their guns immediately and parted like the red sea. A man in a brown bomber jacket styled coat strode in. I had to crank my head up just to meet his gaze. He was huge, towering over me with his size alone. The mask strapped on his face hid everything, but his eyes – confident and unwavering.

"Eleanor Chalk, I presume?"

"And I guessing you are Bane."

Bane grabbed me by my neck and pushed me against the wall. His grip tightened around my throat, causing me to choke. "You should know better than to challenge us, dear Eleanor. I could kill you. Crush your neck so easily with my bare hands." He threatened.

"True… cough… but since… ugh, I'm still alive… ack… you obviously want… something from me." I wheezed.

"And what makes you say that?"

"You didn't sent… cough… men after Pastel's escape… used her and Stickers… as bait… so that means… gack… I'm your target."

"You are smart after all." He released me, and I fell to the ground in a coughing fit. Stickers barged through the crowd, her eyes lit up in joy.

"Oh Bane!" Stickers exclaimed and rushed over to hug his arm. "Thank goodness you are here! We can punish her now right?"

I retched inside.

"Yes, I'm bringing her to the courthouse once the tumblers are ready."

"I'm guessing I'm riding in the front with you again?" She teased, batting her eyelashes.

"Actually…" Bane raised his arm up to her neck. "…There has been a change of plans."

In a flash, Bane wrapped his fingers around Stickers twisting it like a bottle cap with ease. I stared in shock as Stickers fell limp to the ground. Her head twisted awkwardly from her body.

"Dispose the body," Bane coldly ordered.

Two guards stepped forwad, picked Sticker's body up and left the corridor. I never saw her again.

Bane pulled me up to my feet roughly. "If you don't wish to end up like your friend then. I would advise to follow me without question. Do you understand?"

The shock from before dissolved like acid, into a cold, angry stare. "You won't get away with this."

"One thing you should know about me, Eleanor." His eyes replied with an aloof gaze. "I don't leave any loose ends."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Gordon noticed something shiny under the Merc's bleeding corpse. The blood had hid it well, but it was lodged deep in the wooden planks, splitting the flow of blood from the puddle. Pulling it out, Gordon realized it was a bullet shell casing.

"Wait a second…" He muttered, grabbing the stray rifle bullet shell Blake had picked up as evidence earlier. Holding the two bullets together, Gordon noticed that the bullet he found was bigger than the other.

He inspected the dead merc's body again. He wasn't sure but something seemed off with the gaping wound. Laying the merc on his stomach, Gordon pulled down his collar. He noticed that the exit wound was much bigger than the entrance wound.

His eyes widened in realization.

'_Shit'_

All of a sudden, a loud bang was heard from upstairs. Gordon swore and ran up to the room above. He slammed the door open and gawked.

The Merc tied to bedpost was shot execution style. Shattered glass pieces dropped from the tiny hole on the window behind the corpse. There wasn't a need to check the man's pulse – he was good as dead. Whoever the Sniper was, Gordon bet that it was the same Merc who set up the entire crime scene up.

Blake wasn't going to like this.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and no flames! Remember, reviews and favs are the writer's energy supplement. :D


	5. Judgement

**The Chalk Girl**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modeled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** Hi again! First of all I would like to thank the readers for reviewing and being awesome.

If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer.

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

* * *

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

"_Are you sure we are talking about vandals here?" _

"_These Mercs broke in and butchered two young men. Obviously targeted them for their activities. You know how much they hate the Bat."_

"_It's all YOUR fault!" _

"_P-Pastel?" _

"_The one and only."_

"_The Dark Knight has abandoned us! The Law lied to us about Harvey's death and you're still hung up on what Scarecrow did to you!"_

"_Don't you see? I did it **ALL** for **YOU**."_

"_I almost killed someone, Kelsey. I broke our code."_

'_Eleanor… My sweet girl.'_

"_As a friend, I can't afford to lose you too."_

"_CHALK!"_

"_One thing you should know about me, Eleanor. I don't leave any loose ends."_

_BANG!_

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**Chapter Four: Judgement**

"He what?" Blake exclaimed into the phone. Mr. Chalk rose from his seat as the young detective's expression switched from disbelief to defeat. "Alright, keep me posted if you find anything."

Blake ended the call, disgruntled.

"What happened?"

"Sniper shot our suspect. Looks like we're back to the drawing board."

The older man held his temple in disbelief. "Damn it, Eleanor. Where the hell are you?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Chalk."

"No. I-I should have stopped her from leaving. I should have accompanied her home. I shouldn't have trusted him… That Jonathan."

Blake pondered for a moment and asked, "How did you know Dr. Crane?"

Mr. Chalk walked up to his bookshelf, scanning his collection. Tapping his wrinkled finger along the spines, he stopped at a maroon book and pulled it out.

"He was my student in college. Smart but arrogant when it comes to intellectual discussions. You wouldn't believe it, but that man used to be a timid boy in his younger days. At least that was what I guessed from our little chatter over drinks," Mr. Chalk said, dropping the book on the table. He flipped to a page containing an old photo for himself and a younger Crane. "I guess years of bullying finally got to him."

"How did you know that?"

Mr. Chalk smiled grimly. "It takes a psychologist to know another. Mind you, despite his attitude, he was still a friend. Crane was the top student in Psychology, Medical practice and Science – skipping grades and passing exams with little effort. A prodigy no doubt, with theories, ideas and brilliance."

Blake took a seat next to him. "What happened to him?"

Mr. Crane continued looking through his photo album. "I didn't know. By the time he graduated, I had resigned and took up a friend's offer at Arkham."

Blake was taken aback. "The Asylum?"

Mr. Crane shrugged. "I felt most comfortable in jobs related to my work. I didn't think I would be his colleague."

Mr. Chalk stopped at one of the last few pages. His gaze lingered at a family photo on top right hand corner. In the picture was his family posing in front of the Himalaya Mountains. His wife and Eleanor beamed in the sunlight, hugging each other tightly.

"Your wife really cares about her," Blake remarked.

Mr. Chalk lowered his eyes to the photo, stroking its gloss surface gently. "You have no idea."

Blake noticed shots of the family posing in various locations, including Mr. Chalk posing with a hunting rifle on a rock.

"I used to go hunting with a couple of friends once in awhile. My wife and Eleanor often accompany me during the holidays."

"Was your daughter into hunting as well?" Blake pointed to a photo depicting the man guiding Eleanor in making makeshift traps with nature's materials.

"A little. But I only taught her the basics – small traps, first aid and map-reading…"

A photo at the bottom caught Blake's eye. It was a picture of a log cabin sitting in front of a hill and a large forest. He was able to take a closer look when Mr. Chalk slammed the photo album shut. Surprised, he snapped his head up to the atonished old man.

"Sorry, did you still want a look?"

"No, its ok. Was just thinking that that was a nice house. You guys used that for your vacations?"

Mr. Chalk scratched the back of his head with a laugh. "Ah, yes. Used to belong to my Grandfather. Haven't been there for years though."

"Why not?"

Shock reflected across Mr. Chalk's face. His face paled instantly. All of a sudden, the door slammed open. A young dark-haired woman barged in, covered in dirt and snow. The smell of garbage reeked from her stained trench coat and torn stockings.

"Good lord! Kelsey?"

The woman looked up, wheezing. "Ah… Mr. Chalk! Sorry to barge in, but its… Eleanor, sh-"

Seconds later, the woman crumbled to the floor. Blake jumped out of his seat, rushing to her aid. He noticed bruises on her skin behind the exposed holes of her stockings. Blake figured she had got them after barely escaping some Mercs.

"What happened?"

"Eleanor… she's… urgh…" Kelsey winced. She was losing vision fast.

"Hey, hey! Stay with me! Where's Eleanor?"

Kelsey mumbled before fainting in Blake's arms. Blake's face paled.

"What did she say?" Mr. Chalk asked.

The detective turned to him, a grim expression on his face.

"Bane."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

I woke up to find my head leaning against someone's arm. I was about to apologize for the drool dripping from the corner of my mouth, when I realized who was sitting next to me.

"So you are finally awake."

My mouth dried instantly. Sitting next to me was none other than my captor, Bane. And to make matters worse, a patch of drool was stuck on his sleeve. I pulled away from his arm, wiping my mouth. "Sorry," I muttered.

"Don't be. Consider yourself lucky this was not my favourite coat."

'_He has a favourite coat?' _I sat still, relieved yet astonished of his reply.

From the window, the Courthouse was in plain sight. It was an enormous white palace, complimenting the snowy weather. The driver parked the truck outside the entrance and I was ushered out of vehicle. Bane's men didn't bother to handcuff me. They knew that escape was foolish under his watch. I followed Bane up the stairs, keeping up with his pace from behind.

Bane's second-in-command - introduced as Barsad during our road trip – led the way into the courthouse. The building was incredibly huge, with pillars and plaques decorating the walls. Some of the brass plaques were scratched out, covered with dirt. As we walked deeper into the hallway, I noticed that some doors were smashed down. Most of the offices were either disorganized or completely ransacked. The riots had brought more looters out of their hiding.

It was nerve-wrecking walking alongside Bane. The towering Tyrant was everything the Messengers fought against. Yet it would be crazy not to feel at least a small sense of fear around him. I wasn't blind. I had seen the news footage of Bane fighting off the cops as if they were flies. Not only was he physically brutal, but he was intelligent as well. Which makes outsmarting Bane a difficult task. Eventually, we stopped at a swing door.

"Let the Judge know the trial will start in ten minutes. I need a word with our prisoner before she receives her sentence."

Basard and his men nodded, entering the courtroom ahead of us. Bane turned around, his eyes narrowed at me.

"Why did you save your friend then? You could have escaped with her down the chute."

I frowned. "If I did, the mercs would have caught up to the both of us. And we would both be dead."

Bane remained silent, watching me as I took out my piece of chalk. Nostalgic memories flooded my mind. Who knew that everything would start with this small piece of rock?

"Do you always carry that around?" Bane suddenly asked.

"Yeah. This wasn't my first piece though. The first one was given to me during my Mother's funeral," I smiled a little, staring at the chalk in my hand. "A rookie cop found me after I snuck out during the service. He told me more about Batman and gave it to me as a gift for me to start anew."

"Were your 'messages' inspired by his preaching of the Bat?"

"For the record, my 'worshiping' of the Batman was my decision. The drawings were taught to me by some kids from a nearby orphanage. Though I won't blame him if he doesn't remember. It was eight years after all."

"And you still believe in the Bat after losing everything?"

Sticker's words hit me again and I found myself mulling over them. Even though what she said was true, the Batman wasn't someone I could simply forget. I had devoted myself to his ideals since the night he saved me. I found new life in upholding his cause. Even though vandalizing was a crime, it was my only way of release - of spreading hope to the people in need of a saviour.

But were all these hopes false? Was I doing nothing but damning more people to the hell that laid waiting under Gotham City?

Then, something inside me clicked.

No. It was not false hope.

If the Bat gave up so easily on Gotham, then he would not be the Hero whom I had grown to admire. Batman wasn't just a hero. He was a knight that brought salvation. Many lives were lost – including my dear friends – in the fight for Justice and Hope. If Aerosol believed in him till the end, I don't see why I should not.

Thus, without hesitation, I stared at him straight in the eye. "With my life."

Bane's next move surprised me even more. In fact, it was totally unexpected and uncharacteristic of him; something I would never dreamed of hearing from the feared terrorist. He laughed. Laughed in a rich, bellowing tone that sent a chill down my spine.

"After all this time… You are still naïve as ever," Bane casually chuckled.

I cocked a brow. "You make it sound as if we had known each other for years."

Bane paused in mid-laugh, lowering his gaze at me. As the giant sauntered, I backed up against a wall, cautious of his next move. Holding an unwavering gaze at my face, the muscles around his eyes crinkled. "You have no idea who I am, don't you."

I simply stared back, unsure of what to say.

"Very well."

In a flash, my world went black. But I wasn't dead. Nor was I knocked out from behind again. I felt around my face with my hands and realized that Bane had covered my head with a bag. Before I could wrench the bag off, a hand stopped me.

"Keep that on," Bane ordered. "We can't have you revealing your identity just yet."

"Why?"

Bane remained silent, guiding me forward with his arm around my shoulders. I was blind as a bat in the dark, clumsily stumbling in my steps. Yet for some odd reason, I felt safe enough to trust him then.

As soon as the door slammed open, loud cheering was heard in the distance. I assumed we were in the Courtroom itself, as the surrounding men cheered louder. Pastel told me that the jury was made mostly of criminals from Blackgate and Arkham. Some were petty thieves while others were hardcore murderers. And of course, there was that small group of Bane's Mercs watching the trials for sadistic entertainment.

After walking a few steps, Bane must have released me from his grasp, because the next thing I knew, I was grabbed roughly on both sides and shoved harshly onto the ground. I winced at the impact, slowly rising to my knees.

"Order! Order in the court!"

My blood froze instantly at the commanding voice.

Silence immediately filled the courtroom as the gavel was slammed down. Even in the darkness, I could feel the burning stares of the criminals around me. But I was too focused on the source of the voice.

'_It couldn't be… It can't be…'_

"We have gathered here today for the sentencing of this vandal. Or should I say, the Leader of the vandals responsible for 'decorating' our streets with the symbols of 'Batman'," The voice sarcastically accused.

The crowd jeered at his name, cursing and proclaiming their hatred at me. Cold sweat broke from my temple. There was no mistake. Scarecrow was here, in this room. And HE was the Judge.

Mortified was an understatement. I was beyond horrified, shaking to my bones at the thought of being under his control once more. If this was Bane's sick idea of punishment, it was working. But what made my stomach sink to the pits was that Crane ruled over this Kangaroo Court, sending all those innocent people to death.

"Aren't you going to give us a name, Miss?"

Rage boiled in my veins, as I remained silent, crouching on one knee.

"Fine, it doesn't matter. Your guilt has been determined. This is merely a sentencing hearing. So what will it be? Death or Exile?"

I knew of the results. Neither option would guarantee survival and retaliation would result in a slow, brutal beat down by the inmates and the Mercs. If this would be my end, then I had to make sure Crane doesn't hurt anyone else.

This would be my chance to take him down. Once and for all.

"If you are not going to answer, I will have to ask the Jury to decide," Crane carried on in a bored tone.

At that moment, the crowd began to yell their votes, shouting "Death" or "Exile" in loud choruses. I reached down to my boots, sneaking two fingers behind the lining. It took awhile before they eventually found the spare Swiss knife hidden insid_e. _

"_Always carry a spare."_ That's what my Father taught in our hunting trips.

"Very well. I find the defendant guilty and shall sentence her to-"

"A trial without hearing the defendant out? That hardly sounds fair."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Crane froze in his seat. He recognized the voice. For the past eight years, that very same voice haunted his dreams, caressing his mind like a lover's hand.

"What's the matter, Crane? Have you forgotten all about me?" The woman taunted.

Whispers filled the solemn atmosphere as Crane stared down at the woman below him, eyeing the bag over her head with great suspicion. "Who are you?"

The woman's head titled down to face the ground.

"Don't make me repeat myself. _Who_ are you?"

Her silence made Crane feel nervous, his palms grew sweatier by the minute. He was praying that the woman was not who she claimed to be. The suspense was killing him. "Take that bag off," He ordered.

Met with silence once more, Crane's patience was wearing thin. He snapped his head to the stoic masked terrorist at the back. He wasn't sure what Bane had planned, but something was amiss and he had to find out.

"Does anyone want the honor of revealing the defendant's secret identity?"

The crowd cheered, raising their hands excitedly. Crane grinned, full of pride at the power he still held in his hand. He was about to pick one of the volunteers when the woman laughed.

"Seriously? Are you that much of a coward, Crane?"

Crane's lip twitched in annoyance. "Coward?"

"Yes, Mr. _Ichabod _Crane. A coward who hides behind a mask. A coward who gets off from Fear. A coward who rapes innocent girls."

A burst of gasps and mumbling broke through the crowd once more. With his ego seriously bruised, Crane seethed in anger, slamming the gavel down. Everyone knew better than to question his power, especially those who knew Scarecrow.

"Insolent woman, do you know who I am?"

"Since we first met in your office, _Jonathan_."

Crane almost dropped his gavel. Though the voice was cold and harsh, it triggered a memory of a similar voice – one that was softer, gentler and sweeter.

"_Jonathan."_ The honey sweet voice would politely greet.

"_Thank you, Jonathan." _The soft voice would bashfully reply.

"_I-I'm scared, Jonathan. W-Won't you stay?"_ The quivering voice would sweetly plead in his ear.

In his life, he had only allowed few people to call him by his first name. And there was only one person he had ever shared so much of himself with.

Crane rose from his seat and marched down the steps towards the woman. The crowd watched in anticipation as he closed the space between the prisoner and himself in long strides. Kneeling on one knee, Crane gripped the black bag over the woman's head tightly. He gulped, unsure if his suspicions were true. He would do anything to see his beloved again. Even if she were to spite him or loathe him. He loved her. Missed her so much.

If he could see her face once more… hold her in his arms again… Nothing else would matter.

In one swift motion, he ripped the bag off her head.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

I squeezed my eyes at the sudden blinding light, having spent too long in the dark. When the pain alleviated, my vision slowly refocused itself on the man before me. I flinched back as Crane stared at my face in astonishment.

"Eleanor…" His fingers hesitantly reached out to caress my cheek, as if he was afraid I was a mere illusion. When he realized that I was real, his expression softened. "You're here. You're really here."

I was revolted by his touch. I wanted so badly to recoil away from the mad man. But if I did, the plan would fail and I would lose all chance of taking him out. I bit back my disgust and forced myself to meet his unwavering gaze. His icy blue eyes glowed with intrigue.

"You have grown so much since we last met."

"And so did you."

He was older, but retained the same face as he had eight years ago. His chin was unshaven, his dark chocolate hair slightly tousled, but his high cheekbones and eyes never once aged. Soon, Crane snapped out of his trance, narrowing his eyes at me. "I see you have become less submissive than before. And an ardent fan of the _Batman_," He ended the last word sourly.

"People change, Crane. You have a problem with that?"

"On the contrary..." Crane brought his other hand up so that both hands would grasp my face. He smirked. "I find the rebellious ones challenging and more... enticing."

My hands balled into fists as Crane leaned forward to the point our foreheads were touching. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of my scent. I shuddered. Crane opened his eyes languidly, ignorant of the wolf whistles in the background.

"For what its worth, you are still beautiful as you were eight years ago."

Just before his lips touched mine, I pushed him to the ground. While Crane was down, I got behind him and wrapped my arm tightly around his neck. Crane stopped struggling when I whipped out the Swiss knife hidden in my right palm, holding him at knifepoint. The inmates rose up in at uproar.

"What are you doing?" Crane gasped.

"What I should have done years ago."

The Mercs leapt out from the crowd, aiming their rifles at me. But Bane appeared from behind, placing a hand on one of the men's shoulders.

"Lower your weapons," He ordered.

The Mercs reluctantly obeyed and backed off. Bane watched me with great intrigue, taking a step forward.

"Stay back!" I yelled.

"Or what?" Bane coldly replied. "You will_ kill_ him? What good will that do for you?"

I pressed the blade closer to Crane's neck. "Either way, I'm a dead woman. I can't stop you, but at least I can take this son of a Bitch out before he hurts another damn soul."

"Is that all you ever thought of me as? A Monster?" Crane asked in mock hurt.

I glared at him, but Crane simply smiled back, giddy with happiness. Dear God, he was seriously 'Getting Off' from Fear itself.

"A 'Monster' isn't enough to describe your true nature, you Psycho," I hissed.

"Now don't go mixing me with the rest of my patients, Eleanor. Criminal or not, I'm still a Doctor."

I scoffed. "You're no Doctor."

"Then kill him."

I whipped my head up to Bane, who was standing akimbo. His eyes showed no mercy. Expected of a cold-blooded killer.

"Isn't this what you are after, Eleanor? Revenge? Justice?"

Anger was replaced with a moment of hesitation. I looked down to Crane, my eyes lingered at his anticipating blue eyes. He gulped at the silver blade on his neck. Pastel's words screamed into my head, reminding me of what I was fighting for, the purpose of my existence. The Batman's code of morality. I remembered Aerosol's death and Sticker's outburst. The pain and anger that boiled inside me had reached its limit.

Does Scarecrow deserve mercy in spite of what he did?

My conscience agreed, but my judgement says otherwise.

Evil must be punished and Crane had escaped the punishment for his crimes far too long. Besides, I will be killed after I executed him.

'_Screw the code.'_

I pressed the blade deeper against his skin.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Aaaaaaannnnd CLIFFHANGER! Okay, damn that was mean. But yeah I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a review if you want the next chapter to be updated faster. ;D

And I seriously, seriously apologise for the late update! Remember no flames!


	6. Decision

**The Chalk Girl**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modeled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** Hi again! First of all I would like to thank the readers for reviewing and being awesome.

If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer.

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

"_He was my student in college. Smart but arrogant."_

"_What happened to him?"_

"_You have grown so much since we last met."_

"_Nice house. You guys used that for your vacations?"_

"_Used to belong to my Grandfather. Haven't been there for years though."_

"_Good lord! Kelsey?"_

"_Hey, hey! Stay with me! Where's Eleanor?"_

"_And you still believe in the Bat after losing everything?"_

"_You make it sound as if we had known each other for years."_

"_Insolent woman, do you know who I am?"_

"_Yes, Mr. Ichabod Crane. A coward who hides behind a mask. A coward who gets off from Fear. A coward who rapes innocent girls."_

"_Isn't this what you are after, Eleanor? Revenge? Justice?" _

"_What are you doing?"_

"_What I should have done years ago."_

"_Then kill him." _

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**Chapter Five: Decision**

_Eight Years ago, Gotham City, GCPD building…_

"You got something to say, Crane?"

"How many times do I have to tell you its '**Scarecrow'**, Commissioner?" Scarecrow replied in his usual belittling tone.

Commissioner Gordon had been putting criminals away for years, interrogating and investigating every possible lead in the seedy streets of Gotham. But the criminal before him was on an entirely new level.

Scarecrow sat before him with his smirk on his face. His blue eyes twinkled with insanity. He was strapped with a straitjacket – a precaution, courtesy of the asylum – watching the Commissioner smugly.

Gordon folded his arms. "What I don't understand is why _you _are still happy after getting a life sentence in the nuthouse again."

"I'm not interested in that. I'm just waiting for _her_."

"Her?"

His eyes sparkled with glee. "She's coming today, isn't she? To indentify me as her 'Tormentor'."

In the opposite room, an officer and a man in his forties entered, followed by a young girl. She was wearing a rosy parka and blue jeans. Her hands clutched together, shuffling behind them in her sneakers. Her hair was an utter mess, pale brown and unevenly combed. The moment she saw Crane behind the glass, she swallowed hard.

"Eleanor Chalk," Gordon recalled.

"Yes…"

Eleanor trembled, feeling nervous. The officer asked her some questions, all the while pointing to Crane behind the glass. She nodded, tears brimming in her eyelids as she glanced at the man she once loved.

"Leave her alone, Crane. The girl's already gone through enough."

"I doubt she is still a girl considering what we had shared in bed."

Heavy pounding on the glass ensued from the outside. Only to be silenced when two officers rushed in to restrain the older man.

"I'm guessing that was her father," Crane added with a smug smirk. "Which means my Eleanor is just outside."

"I have five officers guarding both rooms. Without your equipment, not even you can go near her."

Crane leaned across the table. "You think what we did was rape?"

"Well your methods don't seem to concur with the term, 'Consensual'."

"You don't understan-"

Gordon slammed his fist on the table. "No, **YOU** don't understand. You don't seem to understand that you just destroyed an innocent girl and scarred her for life. What were you thinking? You think that you could just walk into her house, murder her mother and sweep her off her feet? That isn't love, Crane. That is a selfish desire. You are no longer fit to be a psychiatrist or a professor. You're nothing but a cruel, corrupted monster."

Crane grew quiet, leaning back into his seat. Gordon was surprised. Usually Crane would sneer at him for interrupting the former, but this time, he was actually mulling over the Commissioner's words. He wondered if he had hit a nail in the head. Staring hard at Crane, Gordon wondered what was going through his head.

"Innocence."

Gordon blinked. "What?"

"Sweet, naïve innocence." Crane muttered. "It's so raw that anyone can taste it in the air surrounding her and twist it with a dash of pain and greed."

"What are you getting at?"

"Tell me something, Commissioner." Crane leaned forward. "Is it wrong to love someone so much that you wish for no one to hurt her? To take her away?"

Gordon noticed a change of expression on the latter's face. His arrogant demeanor had vanished, replaced by solemn sorrow. For a moment, Gordon actually wondered if Crane was sincere about the girl. The long, awkward silence got harder to stomach and Gordon finally felt that enough was enough. Just as he rose from his seat, Crane lifted his gaze to the glass.

"I know you can hear me."

Eleanor flinched, lifting her head up slowly to the glass. Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel Crane's gaze burning straight at her.

"And I know you probably won't forgive me for what I did. But I need you to know that I only did those things to protect you."

Eleanor listened in disbelief.

"Crane, enou-"

"I used to believe that you were just a girl who would mean nothing. But you proved otherwise." Crane carried on, ignoring the bewildered Commissioner. He smiled to himself. "You were so timid and shy. You reminded me of myself when I was younger. So much that while a part of me wants to knock some sense into you, another part of me wants to simply hold you in my arms and never let go.

"You have completely corrupted my mind. Your voice, your eyes, your scent, your touch… I can't get enough of you. I can't forget you. And I can't live without you."

Crane chuckled softly.

"You're all I have now, Eleanor. I love you. I always did and always will. But this city won't let us be together."

Eleanor's shoulders trembled at the last words. His tone had reached a darker level of richness, snaking into her soul. She was struggling to compose herself before the mad man. She wanted to be brave, but she couldn't. The horrifying memories were still fresh in her mind. She wanted to go away, she wanted to leave. But her body won't move. Crane took a deep breath.

"I will be away for a while once I get out of this prison. I assure you things will change for the better. Once the storm is settled, we will be together. And by then…" Crane's lips spread into a dark grin. "Nothing will tear us apart."

Eleanor burst into tears and turned away from the glass. Her father wrapped his arms protectively around her. Gordon slammed his fist on the table again. "That's enough, Crane! Foley! Ramirez!"

Two officers barged into the room and dragged Scarecrow out roughly.

"Get this animal back to Arkham."

As he was brought out of the room, Crane glanced behind his shoulders and mouthed two words to the frightened Eleanor.

"Don't forget."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

When I snapped out of my daze, the blade had only nicked Crane's neck. Small droplets oozed from the cut on his fine skin, flowing down his neck. My eyes lowered to Crane's surprised face. His eyes were wide open, questioning my halt to the assassination. I gritted my teeth in frustration, tearing my eyes away from Crane.

'_No… no this was wrong…'_

My grip on the knife loosened.

'_This was not the way.'_

"What are you waiting for? Finish him!" Bane ordered.

I snapped my head up, glaring at him.

"No."

I pulled away from Crane, throwing the Swiss knife away in disgust. When the ex-Doctor's eyes met mine in surprise, I delivered a right hook at his face. Crane yelped, stumbling back in pain. Two Mercs flanked me, roughly bringing my arms behind my back. Soon, I was escorted towards the exit. Crane rose unsteadily, tending to his busted lip. He stared at me, confused. "Why?"

"It won't bring the dead back."

"Because it's not what the Batman would have done?"

I glanced behind my shoulder at Crane.

"No," I smiled faintly in triumph. "It's not what _I_ would have done."

Crane stood in the distance, watching as the Mercs dragged me away. For a moment, I swore I saw a pained expression spread through his face. What went through his mind then, I would never know. All that mattered was that I didn't surrender to the darkness. This was my decision.

And I will not regret it.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

As Eleanor disappeared behind the door, Crane seethed in anger at Bane. The terrorist stood stoic, his eyes crinkled with victory.

"Why didn't you tell me you found her?"

"She doesn't concern you, Crane."

"The hell she doesn't! You know that I've been waiting to claim Eleanor after my release. What would you want with her?"

"Relax, Crane. You will get your prize," Bane calmly assured. "I simply wanted to test her."

"Test her? For what?"

"I have seen her in action. She has potential – skills, wits, intelligence, idealism and a loyalty unbreakable by force alone. Most importantly, she is a symbol of "Hope". If I can twist that loyalty of hers to the League of Shadows, she would be a great addition of our cause." Bane turned to Crane, eyes full of seriousness. "And finally yours in body and soul."

Crane folded his arms in displeasure. He didn't like the fact that he was used as a pawn again. "What makes you think Eleanor would so easily swear loyalty to you?"

"You forgot, Crane. I'm quite a persuasive man of few words. Besides, even if she doesn't break that easily, I have other ways…"

Before Crane could interject, Barsad came running in.

"Sir!" Barsad called, approaching Bane. "The search team just reported in. They couldn't find the other girl."

"Is that so?"

"If we don't do something, she might tip off the police about our captive."

A sinister glint shone in Bane's eyes.

"Hmph, well then we'll have to teach them what happens to those who rebel against the League of Shadows, don't we?"

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

After leaving the woman in Mr. Chalk's care, Blake left the apartment. Even though Mr. Chalk was about to lose hope, Blake wanted to continue digging. Only this time, he wanted to find out more about Eleanor. Something was off about Mr. Chalk. The way he tried to hide the photo of the house and his evasive attitude in certain parts of Eleanor's past raised suspicion in Blake's cop instincts.

During his research of Eleanor, in one of her records he found the address of the Mental Rehabilitation centre Eleanor once stayed in to recuperate. It was a long walk, but Blake couldn't risk driving around with the Tumblers on patrol.

The building before him was gloomy, dark and desolated. It almost looked like a miniature version of Arkham Asylum, minus the fortress brick walls the latter had. The gate was unlocked and Blake easily slipped into the building with ease. The walls were a sickly shade of bleach and green. Cracks had formed behind the torn down wallpapers, revealing the building's old age. Tables were overturned and window glass was stained with dust. The empty rooms gave the atmosphere of a Ghost town – eerie and chillingly quiet.

Blake navigated down the stairs to the records room, with a flashlight in one hand, and a gun in the other. When he found the room, the door was already broken down. The room was unorganized and files were strewn around the room.

'_Good thing criminals never bother to clean up after themselves these days.' _Blake looked everywhere, but he could not find Eleanor's file.

"Looking for this?"

Blake whipped around, flashing his torchlight and pistol at the voice's owner. Blake's eyes widened.

"Ms Kyle? What are you doing here?"

"Just getting what I came here for." The woman in black tights casually leaned against the wall, fanning herself with the files in her hand.

"Hand them over!"

"Oh I don't think so, "Sweet-Cheeks". You see a lot of people are paying for these file. Some especially powerful…" Selina purred.

"I just need one file."

Selina raised a brow. "Just One? Hmm seeing as I'm generous… which one?"

"Eleanor Chalk."

Glancing through the files in her hand, her full red lips smirked. "Ooh, sorry. That one's assuring me a high pay-check."

Blake was about to retort when he heard the sound of footsteps outside.

"You sure there's something down here?" A voice asked skeptically.

"Yeah, the place was loaded with goods."

Selina kicked the weapon out of Blake's hand, back flipping to the window behind her. Opening the window, she cast her devilish smirk cheekily at the surprised cop.

"Catch you later!"

Selina jumped out of the window, rolling down the gravel street. Blake rushed to the window, cursing when he lost sight of the thief. As the footsteps ascended down the stiars, Blake grabbed his gun.

"Shit," Blake cursed, quickly hiding behind a bookshelf when a thug walked into the room. The dark-skinned man's eyes darted left to right, before yelling to his partner. "There's nothing here, you dumbass! Have you been smoking pot again or something?"

A quarrel ensued and the thug left the room to knock some sense into his partner. When the footsteps left the vicinity, Blake sighed in relief. From the corner of his eye, something stuck out under a pile of books. Blake walked across the room, clearing the mess to discover a brown folder with the label peeled off.

Blake opened the file and gaped.

"What the hell?"

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Mr. Chalk flipped the channels with the remote. He was lucky the television worked. Kept him in the loop of the world news. Yet, it was starting to get dreary. Reporters were broadcasting news of Bane's reign and the deaths of hundreds under his rule. Houses were looted, and people were scrambling for food just to survive. The wealthy aristocrats were forced out of their homes. Criminals and psychos were on the loose, tearing Gotham City apart. No one dared to leave the city, unless they want to be wiped out by a nuclear bomb. The army and US government made sure of that, hovering around the sky while their officers guard the bridges.

Mr. Chalk sighed._ 'Everything's gone to hell.'_

Just then, the woman on the sofa regained consciousness. Mr. Chalk took a seat next to her, bringing a cup of coffee and a plate of food.

"Wh-Where am I?" She groaned.

"Ssh, its ok, Kelsey. You passed out at my door. Here." Mr. Chalk offered a sandwich and her drink. "It's not much, but you liked Tuna, right?"

Pastel nodded. She gratefully accepted the food, taking a sip at the coffee.

"Kelsey, is it true that Eleanor's with Bane?" Mr. Chalk asked.

Pastel paused in mid-bite, bringing the sandwich down. She clutched the food tightly in one hand, while the other gripped her stockings. Mr. Chalk brought a hand to his mouth, stifling a sob. "Oh Lord…"

"She didn't want to see anyone else die. I'm sorry, Mr. Chalk. I tried… but I…"

Mr. Chalk held a hand up, shaking his head. He inhaled and exhaled, calming himself down. "I know Eleanor, Kelsey. She's as stubborn as her mother. Always put others before herself…" His voice trailed off as a reporter appeared on the screen.

"_Live in Gotham City, witnesses reported that they have spotted Mercs leaving the bridge an hour ago. We're are on our way to see what the commotion is about an-." _

The reporter froze in her steps. A loud gasp escaped her lips. She stumbled back, falling to the ground.

"_Vicki? Vicki, are you ok?"_ The Cameraman asked.

"_Zoom on the bridge."_

"_What?"_

"_Zoom on the bridge now!"_

Mr. Chalk and Pastel stared at the screen, gasping in horror. Corpses hung from the edges of the bridge by thin ropes. Ropes were wrapped around each neck like a noose, dangling the dead like lifeless dolls. Their faces were obscured but Pastel recognized the two of them sporting GCPD uniforms. Right next to them, was a corpse donning a white coat. The cup and sandwich in her hands fell to the ground, spilling their contents on the carpet.

"Oh… Oh my God," Pastel's voice grew shaky. "That's the jacket I got for her birthday… I…"

Mr. Chalk's hand trembled, unable to tear his eyes from the screen. Agony spread across the older man's face as he came to face with the reality before him. Pastel couldn't hold back the tears anymore. She brought her hands to her face and screamed.

"**ELEANOR!"**

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_To be continued… dun dun DUN!_

Hope you enjoy the chapter! Do review for the next chapter! And remember no flames! Btw, I have posted a poll for who do you think Eleanor will be paired up with. Why not you guys have a go at it? I will let you know the results of the poll thus far in the next chapter. Once I get some votes in. :D

_CMXC signing off!_


	7. Trauma

**The Chalk Girl**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modeled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** Hi again! First of all I would like to thank the readers for reviewing and being awesome. Just need to apologise for the delay.

If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer.

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

'_This was not the way.'_

"_Because it's not what the Batman would have done?"_

"_No. It's not what **I** would have done."_

_You know that I've been waiting to claim Eleanor after my release. What would you want with her?"_

"_She has potential – skills, wits, intelligence, idealism and a loyalty unbreakable by force alone. She is a symbol of "Hope". She would be a great addition of our cause. And finally yours in body and soul."_

"_Ms Kyle? What are you doing here?"_

"_A lot of people are paying for these file. Some especially powerful…"_

"_What the hell?"_

"_Zoom on the bridge."_

"_What?"_

"_Zoom on the bridge now!"_

"_Oh… Oh my God. That's the jacket I got for her birthday… I…"_

"_Hmph, well then we'll have to teach them what happens to those who rebel against the League of Shadows, don't we?"_

"_**ELEANOR!"**_

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**Chapter Six: Trauma**

"_Members of the vandal group known as The Messengers – were just confirmed by Bane to have been killed with one missing in action. Their leader, 27-year-old Eleanor Chalk has been identified as one of the decea–"_

Blake switched the TV off, tossing the remote aside. The news of Eleanor's death unsettled him. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe that he had failed to save her. But when Bane's mercs began flashing photos and bloody evidences of the deceased members to the public, Blake's nightmare became a reality.

Eleanor was dead.

Watching the people before him crumble in despair sent Blake's gut sinking down the pits. He should have made a move to rescue her, find out where she was held prisoner. He wished Batman was here. He would have known what to do. Unfortunately, Batman was as human as he was. And all humans eventually die.

Pastel had left the room earlier to get some air, leaving the two men alone. Mr. Chalk slammed his glass down onto the table. "Can't believe they're using her as a warning against the public."

"I'm sorry… I-"

"It wasn't your fault. I knew this would happen to Eleanor someday. Just didn't think it would be so soon."

The calmness in his voice irked Blake. He was expecting the older man to lash out at him - to put the blame on him. But since the death of his daughter, the man simply kept to himself, staring at the contents of his vodka or the window. The cop instinct hit his gut once more.

"Before I go…" Blake brought the file out from his coat. "There's one more thing."

"What's that?"

Blake slammed it on the table, revealing a missing poster of a young brunette. A big label in bold print below the photo read: **[MISSING GIRL IN HIMALAYAS]**.

"Do you mind explaining this?" Blake demanded.

Mr. Chalk's face paled instantly. "Where did you find this?"

"While looking for your daughter." Blake folded his arms. "Why didn't you tell me that she went missing prior to the kidnapping?"

Mr. Chalk's voice trembled. "You weren't supposed to…"

"The hell it's not! I know everyone has their own secrets, but if it concerned Eleanor, it could have helped in the search. Narrowed down whoever was after Eleanor in the first place."

"What good does it do now?"

"It could have saved your daughter!"

A pregnant silence followed after the heated argument. Blake stood akimbo, waiting for an answer. Mr. Chalk's fingers tightened around the glass.

"When Eleanor was eighteen, I brought her and my wife to the Himalayas for our annual vacation. I would join my hunting friends, while Gwen and Eleanor stayed in the vacation cabin. One day, I was trekking to the usual hunting spot when I heard Eleanor calling after me. She was running towards me with my compass when it happened. The weather had been rather unsafe then – occasional snowstorms and avalanches. I yelled for her to get away, but it was too late. The avalanche swallowed everything in its path – including Eleanor. The search team had spent weeks trying to find her, but no such luck.

"Gwen fell into depression. She was convinced our daughter was lost. And in her grief, she had an affair with another man. I only found out a few days after we returned to Gotham. Morning sickness, fatigue and peculiar appetite. She was pregnant. And she was convinced that the baby inside was our daughter. I tried to convince her otherwise, but she wouldn't listen."

"You weren't mad that she had an affair with another man?"

Mr. Chalk took a sip of his vodka. "I was at first. Until I discovered her behavior included symptoms from PTSD amnesia. I couldn't blame her considering the circumstances."

"What happened after Eleanor was found?"

"Gwen didn't recognize her at all. She accused our own child of being a stranger who wanted to take her 'Eleanor' away. The only reason she allowed the real Eleanor to stay was because I lied to her that she was my niece."

"How did Eleanor take this?"

"Eleanor blamed herself for her mother's condition. She took it upon herself to care for Gwen. But Gwen didn't buy it. She grew paranoid around her, thinking that I brought Eleanor in as a 'replacement' if the baby were to die. She became abusive, making life hell for Eleanor. It was so…" Mr. Chalk's voice cracked. "… so hard to watch."

Blake's gaze hardened at Mr. Chalk. "Then why didn't you sent your wife to Arkham for treatment?"

"And let the world know of her condition? No, and even if I did, Gwen resisted the idea. She locked me out of the house once in defiance. Being an employee at Arkham I had access to the medication required. So I treated her at home, snuck in medication during her meals. But I suspect Gwen found them and disposed of the pills while I wasn't looking."

"So you let Eleanor suffer under your abusive wife for _months_?" Blake angrily questioned.

"She insisted she could handle it. I was worried. So I brought her to Arkham instead where she could seek consultation."

"That's when she met Dr. Crane, right?"

"Indeed," Mr. Chalk concurred. "She was making progress to recovery from the trauma thanks to him, so I placed her under his care whenever I had to attend to my duties. If I had known that man was a psycho, I would have…"

Blake rose from his seat, glowering at Mr. Chalk.

"So let me get this straight. Instead of sending your abusive wife to a proper facility for treatment, you sent your daughter there as a patient instead?"

"I was doing what I could for her! As a psychiatrist, I know damn well how I should treat them."

"You're her father for God's sake! You could have at least protected Eleanor from the abuse! Let her know once in awhile that you still cared for her instead of letting your fear and pride get in the way."

Mr. Chalk rose from his seat, glowering. "You don't know anything."

"No. I can't imagine what Eleanor went through. But I know one thing. She trusted you. Loved you. Faced danger once in the Himalayas and survived, only for you to put her in danger again."

"Sh-Shut up!"

"Scarecrow didn't start her misery. You did."

Mr. Chalk roared and lunged at Blake in his drunken rage. His punches and swings hit the air, his steps grew unsteady. Blake dodged the next swing with ease, letting Mr. Chalk trip over the carpet and land on the ground face first. Blake stared down at the older man in disappointment.

"You're not thinking right now with all that alcohol in your head. Maybe when you finally sober up, you'll understand and give it some thought."

As Blake walked out of the apartment, Mr. Chalk slammed a fist on the wooden floor.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_Eight years ago, Gotham Hospital…_

Crane barged into the ward, sweat poured from his face down to his palms. The sight shocked him to the core. On the bed in front of him, was an unconscious Eleanor covered in bandages. Her left leg was in a cast, while her face was battered including a black right eye. A bandage was wrapped around her forehead.

Crane snapped his head to the nurse. "What happened?"

"Sir, you're intruding into the patient's re-"

"What. Happened?" He seethed through his teeth.

The nurse flinched, replying as calmly as she could. "Fell down the stairs and suffered a concussion while tending to her mother at home. Multiple bruises, minor fracture - including a broken rib and leg."

Crane gazed solemnly at the bedridden girl. "How long will she need to stay here?"

"Two or three months, if she gets enough rest."

His heart sank at the marred, broken body of his love. He watched as her chest rose and fall with every breath. "May I have a moment with her?"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but the patient needs to-"

"Please."

Seeing Crane's pleading eyes, the nurse sighed in defeat. "Ten minutes." She said, closing the door behind her.

Crane walked over to Eleanor's bed, taking a seat on the chair beside her. He took her hand and wrapped his hands around hers.

"Eleanor," He whispered, holding her hand close to his cheek. "Eleanor, its me. Dr. Crane."

Eleanor remained deep in slumber. The sound of the heart monitor beeping filled the silence. Crane chuckled.

"Your mother must have hurt you again due to some misunderstanding. And I bet it wasn't even your fault."

Crane's gaze lingered at her face. Her eyelashes were long and fine, her long locks of hair complimented her skin. Her slender, long nose inhaled air through the breathing tubes. Crane fought the urge to kiss her soft-looking lips. His eyes softened in concern and longing.

"Why do you stay with her, Eleanor? All she does is hurt you. She doesn't even acknowledge you as her flesh and blood. Let alone love you."

He squeezed her hand gently.

"Please Eleanor, if you stay with her… you'll die. And I… I can't live without you."

Just then, Eleanor's lips began to move, muttering something inaudible. Curious, Crane leaned his ear closer to her mouth.

"Dr. Crane…" She mumbled in her sleep.

Crane's eyes softened as she whispered his name again. A smile stretched across his face. Gently he held her hand, placing it on his cheek. He sighed at the warmth transmitting to his skin. Closing his eyes, Crane breathed in the scent of her skin to flush out the stale air of the ward.

"I will protect you, Eleanor. I promise, I will. Whatever it takes."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Pastel leaned against the wall in the corridor. Her cheeks were tear-stained, smearing her make-up. She wiped her reddened eyes, blowing her nose with a tissue. She noticed Blake leaving the room.

"Hey."

Blake smiled weakly. "Hey."

He was about to walk away when he noticed something odd about Pastel. "You ok?"

"Yeah... I just calmed down for now. But I... I just want to kick something."

"Its normal."

"No. I mean, I want to seriously grab something and pulverize it to a pulp. Officer Blake, I..."

Pastel cast her eyes down to her boots, balling her fists. Seeing her eyes shifting uneasily to the side, Blake connected the dots.

"You heard everything, didn't you."

Pastel nodded, taking a big gulp down her throat. "Yeah. I just can't believe her parents were like that."

"Some people change when things don't go their way."

Pastel nodded, fiddling with her thumbs. Blake watched as she cast her eyes to the ground.

"I want them dead. Those bastards who killed Eleanor." She confessed. Gritting her teeth, her hands shook in anger. "I really do."

Blake eyed Pastel with concern. He noticed her knuckles beginning to turn white. "Revenge won't bring her back."

"I know." Pastel leaned her head back against the wall. "But I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do. She was my best friend. My only friend left, god damn it."

Blake walked over to her, leaning against the wall. "You two were close, weren't you."

Pastel pursed her lips. Blake was about to let it go, when she lifted her head up.

"Best friends since college. When she got her OCD we tried various ways to help her cope with the stress. The vandal group was one of them," Pastel sighed. "We were always a team you know. I was there to support her when she had no one. And she would do the same for me. Now that she's gone, there's nothing left."

Blake watched as Pastel sobbed. His lips pursed as he searched his head for words of counsel. "Ms. Parker…"

"Pastel."

"I know it's hard. But anger will only stray you away from what you are fighting for. The more it consumes you, the more it pushes you away from the ones you love. Eleanor didn't save you to let you die again. She saved you because you were precious to her. You weren't just her partner. You were her best friend. So don't let the anger take control of you. Live your life as your own. Understand?"

For a moment, Pastel stared at Blake in awe. "How did you know all of that?"

"I was angry at world too after losing my mother. Kinda learned the hard way in dealing with it. Oh and errr…" Blake offered Pastel a tissue. "You might want to use this for your face."

Pastel blinked, only to realize what he meant. She cursed as the mascara began to drip from her eyelids down to her cheek. Grabbing the tissue, Pastel wiped her face and blew her nose.

"Thank you," She muttered.

"Don't mention it."

"No, seriously. Thank you."

Blake and Pastel stared at each other for a moment. Small smiles stretched across their faces.

"Better now?"

"Yeah. Look, I'm going to go get her belongings. God knows, what I'll find, but I don't want the Looters or Mercs destroying what's left of her."

Blake nodded. "Mind if I join you?"

Pastel eyed the cop warily, then shrugged. "Sure, why not."

The both of them walked ahead, uncertain of what they would find and what path they would take. Unaware of what would happen next in the future.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Stay tuned for what happens next… as long as I get my reviews! XD Ta-ta!


	8. Alive

**The Chalk Girl**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modelled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** Oh gosh I seriously need to apologise! Was caught up with my internship and other projects that I almost forgot about the story update (along with a stubborn writer's block)! Argh and it has been held up for a month or so! D: (I'm sorry guys! I have let you down!) m( _ _ )m

Anyways here are the poll results so far:

Neither = 1 vote

Bane = 3 votes

Crane = 5 votes

Wow looks like Team Crane is winning. Do put in your votes for which canon character Eleanor would end up with in the end. A little warning though, this chapter will contain some mature scenes. So for those sensitive to that stuff, be careful around the second section! XD

If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer.

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

* * *

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

"_Members of the vandal group known as The Messengers have been killed with one missing in action. Their leader, 27-year-old Eleanor Chalk has been identified as one of the decea–"_

"_Where did you find this?"_

"_Why didn't you tell me that she went missing prior to the kidnapping?"_

"_I brought her and my wife to the Himalayas for our annual vacation. The avalanche swallowed everything in its path – including Eleanor. She was running towards me with my compass when it happened. The search team spent weeks trying to find her, but no such luck."_

"_You weren't mad that your wife had an affair with another man?"_

"_Gwen didn't recognize her at all. She thought I brought Eleanor in as a 'replacement' if the baby were to die…"_

"_So let me get this straight. You sent your daughter there as a patient instead?"_

"_Why do you stay with her, Eleanor? All she does is hurt you. She doesn't even acknowledge you as her flesh and blood. Let alone love you."_

"_Scarecrow didn't start her misery. You did."_

"_I want them dead. I really do."_

"_I will protect you, Eleanor. I promise, I will. Whatever it takes."_

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**Chapter Seven: Alive**

'_Where… am I?'_

The veil of darkness was all I could see. Cold and awfully quiet. My body shivered, lips chapped from the icy temperature. I remembered my Father.

"D-D-Dad?" My teeth chattered behind my lips. Yet, no matter how many times I called his name, he never replied. I was afraid that he was lost, or worst, dead.

'_How long had I been in here?' _

Then I remembered the avalanche. I picked myself up, waving my arms around in the dark. The crunch of snow and rock below my feet immediately informed me of my location: a small cave.

'_Now I remember. I dove into it while escaping from the avalanche.'_

Eventually, my gloves felt a wall. _'A dead end?'_

It was solid, but moist and cold. After digging a little, some pieces of it fell apart. The avalanche must have blocked the entrance after I fell in. My heart sank. I didn't want to be stuck here forever. My parents would be worried sick.

'_I need to get out of here!'_

Launching my fingers into the snow, I began to dig my way out. Chunks of snow fell to the ground. A tunnel formed around my hands.

'_Dig. Dig. Dig. Dig. Dig!'_

My fingers clawed at the snow rabidly. I didn't know how long I was trapped in the cave. Gradually, my fingers grew numb from the cold and constant pain, even with the gloves on. Maybe they got frostbitten, just like my ears. My throat grew dry with thirst. Pangs of hunger hit me as I dropped to my knees. It was getting harder to breathe with each passing moment.

'_Dig! Come on, fingers! Dig!'_ I mentally screamed for my fingers to move, but soon, they grew tired. The chunk of snow in front of me seemed to go on forever. There didn't seem to be much hope left. My vision blurred and I crumbled to the ground.

'_Oh shi-'_

I fell to the cold ground - numbed and exhausted. Dreaded fear sank into my heart at the brink of death. Lying on the ground, I just wanted to cry. I prayed with all my strength for a miracle. For someone to find me. For someone to save me.

I prayed for a saviour.

Moments later, a burst of white engulfed the scene in front of me. My vision blurred, as chunks of snow fell upon me. All I could make out through the blinding light was the silhouette of a man. And then I faded out.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

The sudden intense light forced my eyes to squeeze themselves shut. Taking a peek in between squints, I noticed I was in an unfamiliar room surrounded by bleach white walls. Curtains were drawn, spilling light onto a polished study desk and a sturdy oak bookshelf. A closet stood beside the bed drawers to the left, clothes hung on the knob by a hanger.

A sudden breath of hot air surprised me, hitting my neck from behind. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, heat flooded my cheeks.

"Hello beautiful."

I whipped my head to the side. Crane smiled at me, lying on the other side of the bed half-naked - with nothing but his boxers. My heart slammed down the pit of my stomach. I recoiled from him, only to wince at the soreness around my body.

"I wouldn't move around too much if I were you. You just recovered from the injuries the guards gave."

I remembered them. After the scene at the Courthouse, they knocked me out with a long, gruelling beat down. Something about me being punished for going against Bane in public. I grunted in annoyance. "What… did you do?"

"I brought you here to recuperate."

"And where exactly is _here_?" I hissed.

"I thought you had figure that out by now. Seeing how well you knew me."

Taking a look around the room again, I noticed a familiar pattern – Everything was organized, except for the desk. Books, paper and stationary were strewn across the desk messily. Newspaper clippings were stuck on the corkboard above the desk. The scene of a man working at his desk after our long sessions in bed replayed in my head.

Oh God… there was no mistake. This was _his_ apartment.

"You Bastard!" I lunged at Crane, but the pain at my ribs stopped me.

"Don't push yourself. I just tended to your bruises."

Colour drained from my face. I ripped the blanket off me. Muscle relief patches and bandages aside, I was – to my utmost horror - only in my underwear. Immediately, heat rose to my cheeks. I stumbled backwards against the bedpost, pulling the blanket to cover my chest. Crane rolled his eyes.

"Relax, I didn't _touch _you. Bane still needs you in your best condition."

'_Bane?'_ I narrowed my eyes at him. "I thought he wanted me dead?"

"Apparently he finds you… _interesting_," Crane frowned on the last word.

I arched a brow. "Playing the lackey doesn't seem like your style."

"Technically we are partners. Otherwise he wouldn't have given me control of the court."

"Let me guess, you got into his pants for that too?"

Crane grabbed my arm and pushed me down to the bed. He pinned me on the mattress, hovering above me. Now Crane was hardly a huge man like Bane. But he still had a few muscles to prove his average fitness. I struggled under his grip. The thrashing hurt my sides even more. "Don't touch me!" I cried out.

"You seemed to have forgotten your position, Eleanor, " He muttered lowly, tightening the grip around my wrist. "And our promise."

I grimaced at the pain. "Don't go putting words into my mouth."

Crane sighed in disappointment. "After all I did for us, this is how you repay me?"

"You killed my Mother!"

"If I didn't, she would have hurt you."

I gritted my teeth. "But you hurt me too."

For a moment, the doctor was at a loss for words. Crane stared in surprise as our eyes met. For some odd reason, I grew self-conscious, diverting my eyes downwards. It was then I noticed the scar on his neck. The mark I left with my swiss knife.

"If there was any other way, I would have spared her. But I can't afford to lose you." He leaned down to my face. His breath tickled my lips. "Not now, not ever."

The sudden sincerity in Crane's voice surprised me. My stomach twisted in knots. I didn't know whether to be angry or confused. His words made me feel strange. Was it concern? Regret? Many questions plagued my mind as I stared into his hypnotic cerulean eyes. One of them lingered longer than the rest.

'_Was this for real?'_

My trail of thoughts was interrupted when something moist pressed itself against my lips. Crane's passionate kiss muffled my surprised squeaks. Every protest came out as unnatural noise against his devouring mouth. The moment I pulled away, he would catch my lips with his again, leaving me no room to escape. No air to breathe in the tight space between us.

"Cra- Crane! Mmph!"

"No," He rasped.

"Sto – Mmph!"

"No."

"Stop this!"

Crane paused in mid-kiss and stared down at me. I blinked in surprise, wondering what had caught his attention. As his hand reached out to my face, I whipped my head to the side. He was going to hit me. I knew he would. But the blow never came. Instead, a long, slender finger wiped away the wet liquid brimming at my eyelids. Discovering my tears, I cursed.

He hushed me with a soft 'Sshh' in my ear, planting a small kiss on my earlobe. I shuddered, nervous at his 'gentle' touch. I could feel his abs pressed against my stomach. His fingers fisted a bunch of my hair in his palm. My limbs grew weary from the constant struggling. Slowly, attempts of fighting back died down and I found myself at his mercy. Before he leaned down for another kiss, I found myself caught in his gaze once more. The brilliant shade of blue never ceased to amaze me. And his cheekbones…

Why did God have to create such a beautiful man, only to make him so cruel?

All of a sudden, the door opened with a loud 'click'. Crane and I froze on the spot. The thug at the entrance stood gawking in surprise. Instantly I snapped out of my trance.

'_Oh Hell… Did I just… and with him?' _ The mental image left me the urge to bathe myself in fire.

Crane threw an annoyed glance at the intruder. "What?"

"Err, Bane wants the girl back at City Hall, sir."

"_**Now?" **_

"Y-Yes sir. T-Training sir." The poor man spluttered in fear. The Doctor lived up to his name indeed.

"She still needs to recuperate."

"B-But one of his men's already waiting downstairs!"

Crane's expression creased into a silent dark, glare – one that sent the thug whimpering behind the door. If Crane wasn't busy pinning me down, I was sure he would have sprayed his fear gas at the intruder in a heartbeat. After an agonizingly long silence, Crane took a deep breath and muttered, "Ten minutes."

"S-Sir?"

Crane shot another glare at the messenger. **"Ten. Minutes."**

If one glare was enough to kill, that poor man would be dead - five times over. He nodded, quickly closing the door behind him. I pulled away from Crane and slapped him across the face. Crane blinked in surprise.

"Ow." He winced.

"What was that for?"

Crane rubbed his cheek. "You were distracted. I couldn't resist."

My left eye twitched in disbelief. "You're six years older than me. Control your hormones, damn it!"

"Age does not matter in love," He mused. "Isn't that what you used to say?"

"Yeah before you kidnapped me to become your sex toy – slash – experiment – SLASH - stress reliever for a WEEK!" I snapped.

"I only gave you small dosages when you misbehave," He cheekily added.

"Yeah, I'm sure you said that to all the other women in your life." My eyes darted around the room. "Where are my clothes?"

"Being washed in the Laundry. There's a fresh set of clothes prepared for you in the bathroom." He gestured his head to the door next to the bookshelves.

I stood up, only for Crane to grab my arm. I was about to rebuke him again when I noticed the seriousness in his eyes. "There was never another woman in my life."

"You don't say."

"I'm serious." He yanked my arm down, pulling me down onto his lap. "You're the only one I need."

He stared me down with a gaze impossible to ignore. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. His fingers rose to my face, tucking a lock of hair behind my right ear.

"I can see it in your eyes. Your posture and gestures," He whispered huskily. "I know you still care."

I slapped his hand away, rising from his lap. I glared down at him coldly. "You're insane."

"For you."

I tossed the nearest pillow at his face and left to change.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

The journey to City Hall was long. Being towed in a Tumbler was one thing, but being sandwiched in a cockpit with Barsad was another. The man sure could use a breath mint. And some teeth whitening. Probably why Crane decided to pass on accompanying us for the trip.

That Bastard… always thinking two steps ahead. Luckily, I stole one of his notebooks and pens earlier. The cover was old, but the pages were a blank. The front pages were evidently torn off. Deciding not to dwell on a psychopath's mind, I began to sketch. Upon reaching my thirtieth Bat symbol, the Tumbler slowed at the next turn.

"We're here," Barsad announced.

City Hall was a rugged shadow of its former self. The Government's palace now belonged to Bane. Every room was ransacked, replaced by prison cells, armouries and facilities for the mercs. We took an elevator down to an underground facility. A new addition Bane had made for training his followers. The walls along the way were filled with bullet holes and dents. One of them was considerably large. It didn't take a genius to figure out who made that.

"If you don't want your skull to be smashed like that, I suggest you follow Bane's orders."

"And that would be?"

Barsad stayed silent as we entered the tunnel ahead.

The underground facility was a training arena where Mercs and new trainees took turns in sparing each other. Barsad explained that even now, Bane received new recruits. It sickened me how many of them had betrayed their own for the man who held a bomb below their feet.

Their leader stood on a raised platform at the back, overseeing the fights. Without his coat, Bane donned a Kevlar vest and military grade clothing, showing off his Olympian sized biceps. When his beady eyes met mine, I almost choked in fear.

"So you have awakened, my dear," the robotic voice said.

I eyed Bane cautiously as he motioned me over. "You don't need to worry. I won't harm you."

I stared at him sceptically, earning a shove from behind. I stumbled forward, stopping myself from falling on all fours. I shot a brief glare behind my shoulders at Barsad. Oh how I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. I quickly strode over to Bane's position, waiting for my answer. He cranked his head down to meet my gaze, staring solemnly down upon me.

"You're wondering why you are alive, aren't you."

"Every second since I woke up."

"Good. Because I have a proposition to make."

I eyed Bane suspiciously as he stepped down from the platform.

"I have seen what you are capable of, Eleanor. Intelligence, wits and skill… Such potential should not be wasted on the streets."

I frowned. "What makes you think I would work with you?"

"You don't have a choice." Bane fished a remote from his pocket, pointing it to the television behind him. My eyes widened at the footage played on the screen.

"Nothing a fake corpse can deceive. It's already been broadcasted all over Gotham. No one would come looking for you now."

I watched the screen in disbelief. I thought of how Pastel and my Dad would react. The horrible anguish stretched across their faces.

"I have erased your old identity, Eleanor Chalk." Bane stepped forward taking my chin with one hand. He forced my attention to meet his face. "Now you belong to me – reborn and ready to serve."

I bared my teeth in defiance. "I will _never _serve you." I slapped his hand away, glaring at him straight in the eye. "You will _never _control me."

Before I could turn away, a sudden weight sat on my right shoulder. My heart froze. It was Bane's hand.

"Do you feel in control now?" He muttered lowly.

Intimidation latched itself on to my shoulder, sapping my courage from before. Slowly, I turned back to face Bane.

"Do you really think you have the power to stop me?" He taunted through his mask. His voice sounded so foreign, laced with velvet darkness.

I kept myself composed. But inside, I was terrified. Any second, his hand could snap my neck in two. My palms grew sweaty.

"Relax, Eleanor. Take a deep breath," He said, noticing my nervousness.

I complied; sucking in whatever oxygen was left in the stale air. Bane seemed content, lifting his hand off my shoulder. I sighed in relief, only to find my breath hitched when he took a lock of my hair and felt its length.

"Robert Chalk."

I stared at him wide-eyed. Noticing my reaction, Bane leaned closer.

"That's your father's name isn't it?" He casually remarked.

He watched the strands of hair fall gracefully to my chest. The atmosphere grew tense.

"You love your Father a lot, don't you."

His fingers languidly trace my jaw line, down to my neck. I shuddered, sensing the approaching bad vibe.

"It's quite a distance from here, but I believe I have a few men patrolling his neighbourhood. Perhaps I should give them a call."

I pulled away from Bane and shot a threatening glare. "Touch him and I'll end you. Right here, right now."

Bane scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. A mere woman like you can do nothing against me."

"Even so. I don't see a reason to join you." My cold glare hardened. "You'll just blow me and the rest of Gotham to Hell once you're done."

"Ah so you had heard."

It was true. After his broadcast from the stadium, Pastel and Markers traced the source to be a project from Wayne Enterprises – a nuclear bomb right beneath us. We had tried various ways of finding the bomb, but Bane's explosives sealed every route leading to it. The terrorist had thought of everything. And I mean, _everything_.

"Unfortunately, the trigger is not with me. So as much as I had like to 'Blow you up", I simply can't. But if you choose to aid my cause, I'll make sure you and your father would be spared."

"How? If I remember correctly, you blew up every bridge connected to Gotham," I sceptically replied.

"Not every bridge."

My ears perked in surprise. Bane noticed it and continued, "The main bridge is still guarded by your government soldiers. I can assure safe passage for the both of you. As long as you promise to follow my orders."

"And if I don't?"

Bane's cold stare spelled the answer clearly and I gulped. I was torn. Both choices weren't appealing. It was a no-win situation. Even if I helped Bane, God knows if he would keep his word. I eyed him with suspicion, looking out for a sign of a lie. But his stern gaze said otherwise. I bit my lip in hesitation. "Why me?"

"Why?"

"I'm no soldier. I have no wealth, no power, no IQ of a 200… why would you want someone ordinary like me?"

The recruits training nearby stopped at the tense silence gathered around us. I couldn't help but feel squeamish under Bane's curious gaze. However, he said nothing. Except, a chuckle.

"My dear. You are more than 'Ordinary'." Bane mused. His eyes twinkled with amusement. "You just don't know it yet."

I blinked in surprise, baffled by his attitude.

"While I have many who will kill for me, only a few men relay information quickly and efficiently. Communication is key in war, my dear. And highly valued."

I raised a brow, folding my arms. "So you want me to be a Messenger. Minus the graffiti art."

"You're learning quick."

"No offense, but there is a thing called the 'iPhone' for that purpose."

"I prefer information given in person, rather than insecure technology."

"What about radio?" I pointed at the walkie-talkie on Barsad's belt.

"Recently, Commissioner Gordon's men have been tracing any technology used from our headquarters. Listening into our plans. We have been lucky so far, but it won't last long. That's when you come in. All you have to do is relay information between my men and myself. If you try to escape or leak information to anyone else, you will die. Understand?"

I didn't know what possessed me then. All of a sudden, I stumbled upon a revelation. Bane was definitely up to something no good. If I stayed, I could keep an eye on him, and that no-good psycho, Crane. Plus, there was a chance to find out who the Trigger Man is. Maybe save Gotham from being obliterated. I will have to work out an escape after I earn Bane's trust. What matters now is to keep Pastel and Dad alive. The whole idea was insane; the craziest idea conjured in my brain. But it was the only plan I had.

"Fine. I will work with you. But on one condition."

"Name it."

I turned to meet Bane's gaze. "Leave Pastel and my Dad alone."

"He raised a brow. "Your second-in-command?"

I nodded. "She had nothing to do with this. Same goes for my Father."

Bane paused for a moment and sighed. "Very well. But if she gets too close again, I will have her terminated."

"I'll make sure she won't."

He stretched his hand out to me. His eyes behold the Devil's glint. I stared down at his hand, firmly took it and shook it.

"Welcome to the League of Shadows. Eleanor Chalk."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

* * *

Wow, so Eleanor's joined Bane's crew. Things are getting interesting, eh? Don't forget to review!

Stay tuned for the next chapter! :D


	9. Love

**The Chalk Girl**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modeled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** BIG NEWS… we have reached **57 Favorites, 80 Reviews, 124 FOLLOWERS and 11,716 VIEWS!** (Throws confetti) I would like to thank you readers, reviewers and my friends for supporting this fic. As a thanks for all your support, here's the link to a pic of both pairings I sketched for X'mas (quite late though lol) - #/d5ohxcp

**Special thanks to reviewers:**

**Stilwater Rundeepo, Starcrier, Lady Minuialwen, bookluvr888, PlaguingYourDreams, ElektraMackenzie, ZabuzasGirl, Captianawesome, takara410, SolsticeWhite, Mockingbird's Purity, KrysOfSorrow and omnomchocolate.**

For taking time to review every (if not, a few) chapter(s) released. Tears of joy have been shed and thank you for your understanding of the update delay. As a say of thanks I will be prepping special romantic chapters for both pairings. Yes, I mean real "Special" exclusive romance chapters for both Crane and Bane. (Wow, they actually rhyme. XD) This chapter will be told through First POV of a canon character, NOT Eleanor. So be prepared! :D

Once again, here are the poll results so far:

Neither = 1 vote

Both = 0 Vote

Bane = 14 votes

Crane = 12 votes

This time we have Team Bane in the lead! Do put in your votes for which canon character you think Eleanor would end up with in the end.** Whichever team wins, I might consider putting a special fanfic/art commission on the winning pair.** As Bane quoted so epically…

"**Let the games begin!"**

PS: If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer. I can't really PM the non-fanfic users (and users who block PM feature) so, here are my replies to them!

**Reply to Guest (11/25/12):** Thanks for waiting and supporting. Here it is! :D

**Reply to Ash125:** Aw ok. Let's give the big guy some love. XD

**Reply to cutexpoison:** No problem! And thanks for your vote and support.

**Reply to Guest (11/29/12):** Oh wow thank you so much! I feel so honored that my story has become worthy of a bedtime story. Guess I will have to make sure it becomes worthy for more enjoyment. Do continue to support The Chalk Girl! ^^

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

'_Where… am I?'_

"_You seemed to have forgotten your position, Eleanor. And our promise."_

"_I have a proposition to make. Now you belong to me – reborn and ready to serve."_

"_I will never serve you." _

"_Do you really think you have the power to stop me?"_

"_I don't see a reason to join you. You'll just blow me and the rest of Gotham to Hell once you're done."_

"_You love your Father a lot, don't you. I can assure safe passage for the both of you. As long as you promise to follow my orders."_

"_I will work with you. But on one condition." _

"_Welcome to the League of Shadows. Eleanor Chalk."_

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**Chapter Eight: Love**

When I was little, I never received the joy of love from my parents. Father left me and Mother wouldn't even look at me. Some time later, I was placed in the care of my grandmother. She was an abusive, religious zealot. Sometimes she would beat me with her cane. Other times she would lock me up in the Church of those filthy animals. I hated crows and bats since then. Till this day, I still do. Every time I reached out to her, she would simply slap my hand away and walk off. In my home, there was no love. Only anger, hate…

And fear.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**J. CRANE**

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

I stood stunned on the icy pavement, staring at the embarrassed girl before me. My left cheek was still warm from the soft contact of her lips. It all happened so fast, in a flash before my eyes. My heart raced while my mind fell into a blubbery mess. The feeling itself was so foreign to comprehend. "E-Eleanor, what are you doing?" I stuttered in astonishment.

"I-I'm sorry…" Eleanor apologized in her fluster.

I kept my composure calm. "No, it, it's alright. I just wanted to know why you did that. Aren't you afraid that people will see us?"

Eleanor innocently stared back at me. In the midst of the falling snow, her cheeks grew cherry red.

"It's because… I love you, Dr. Crane."

My heart stopped in its tracks at her words. Before I could open my mouth again, she fled to the road behind her and disappeared. I wasn't sure how long I stood in the same spot for. Minutes… hours… What felt like eternity passed before I began to make my way to the nearest bus stop, unable to comprehend the emotions rushing out of my head.

'_This is impossible.'_

I sat on the bench, breathing out a huff of cold air.

'_Why would she love someone like me?'_

Under the cloudy sky, the city lights glowed dimly, while the cars whizzed by the slow traffic. A couple walked by, holding hand in hand. A twinge of envy struck me.

'_If she knew who I really was, would she still love me?'_

I held the bridge of my nose, massaging it in frustration.

'_No, she will never love me. She will hate me. Despise me. Fear me. Just like the others.'_

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to silence the voices in my head.

'_She will just get in the way. I can't allow myself to fall for her…'_

I gritted my teeth, taking a deep breath. Even though the cold air hurt my nose.

'_I have to forget about her. I have to. For our sakes.'_

But by then it was too late.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_**Journal Entry: Day 1**_

Couldn't concentrate on work. Considering rescheduling her session to calm my nerves first. Fear Serum experimentation going smoothly so far. Need to get a test subject first.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_**Journal Entry: Day 3**_

Experiment with serum worked. Tom's Musophobia was pushed to its extreme, sent the patient scurrying in fear. But it bored me too easily. Dreading the next session with Eleanor. Can't postpone the therapy session again. Otherwise, Dr. Chalk would get suspicious. Looks like I will have to be straightforward. It's the only way.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_**Journal Entry: Day 6**_

Had a session with Eleanor today. I turned her down. She wouldn't look me in the eye. Was hard to talk to her without a moment of awkwardness. Her solemn face left me torn. This shouldn't affect me, but somehow, it doesn't feel right.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_**Journal Entry: Day 9**_

Eleanor didn't show up. Dr. Chalk said she went out with her classmates for a study group. Office feels empty. Should continue with my work. Time to let Scarecrow out to play.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_**Journal Entry: Day 13**_

Experiment didn't go well, almost killed patient if not for emergency anesthetic. I can't concentrate lately. Must be the overtime I've been pushing myself through. I wonder how Eleanor's doing. I miss her...

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_**Journal Entry: Day 16**_

….

_**Journal Entry: Day 17**_

….

_**Journal Entry: Day 18**_

….

_**Journal Entry: Day 19**_

…. What have I done?

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_**Journal Entry: Day 20**_

My greatest fear has come true. I've fallen in love with my patient. And I have hurt her.

I can't get her out of my mind. I can't eat, sleep or work at all. Every night, she haunts my dreams, whispering sweet nothings, only to disappear the moment I wake up in cold sweat. I was such a fool! I should have seen the signs; I'm a psychiatrist for god's sake! I need to see her. I will schedule an appointment immediately.

Eleanor. Wait for me. I will see you soon.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

When Eleanor announced that she didn't want me to be her psychiatrist anymore, Dr. Chalk grew very concerned. He had temporarily assigned her to his other colleagues but none of them could get the truth out of her. Her shy appearance concealed a hard mind to pick apart. When he couldn't get through her, Dr. Chalk gave in to my request. It was only after much persuasion and coaxing did Eleanor agreed – albeit reluctantly – to meet me today.

Around three in the afternoon, I was on my way to the therapy room when I noticed a young man entering said room. Just then, two nurses passing by began to gossip. "Hey, isn't that the male nurse, Daniel?"

"You mean, Daniel Browns, the new guy?"

"Yeah, I heard he had a big crush on Dr. Chalk's girl since they exchanged glances at her father's office. He was really embarrassed when he told me about it, but oooh it was so cute!"

"Oh my Gosh! Any chance of them getting together soon?"

"God knows, but I heard Daniel's going to confess to her today. Hopefully they'll bring some life back to this creepy dump."

"Oooooh! That's so romantic!"

My blood boiled. Jealousy took over as I hastened my pace towards the therapy room. I grabbed the doorknob and wrenched the door open, stumbling upon Eleanor and the Nurse having a chat. The both of them stared at me, completely wide-eyed.

"D-Dr. Crane?" Daniel gasped.

I narrowed my eyes at the nurse. "I believe that's _my_ seat, Nurse Browns."

Daniel shot up from the chair. "I'm sorry, Dr. Crane! I didn't mean to-"

"Get out," I curtly hissed. The nurse nodded and fled to the door behind me. From the corner of my eye, I noticed him glancing worriedly at Eleanor. She smiled awkwardly, passing a small nod to the nurse. The idea of strapping the nurse to a chair, torturing him day and night suddenly sounded pleasant in my mind. So I took the first step of ruining his life.

"Oh, and Nurse Browns?"

As the nurse turned around, I grabbed Eleanor by the arm and pulled her into a kiss. Sparks flew from the contact of skin and I breathed in the scent I missed so much. Her lips tasted like honey and strawberries. She gasped in surprise, flailing her arms around in panic.

"D-Dr. Cra- Mmph!" I cut her off with another passionate kiss, letting my tongue explore every inch of her mouth.

Soon, her arms slumped by her sides, her eyes closed in sweet submission. I snaked an arm around her waist, holding her tightly against me. In the midst of our kiss, I shot a glare at the male nurse. He stared in shock, jaws dropped as I deepened the kiss with Eleanor. Shooting another glare, the scared nurse admitted defeat and left the scene – no doubt disturbed and frightened. Once the nurse left for good, I pulled away from Eleanor.

She opened her eyes in a daze, lips parted half-open. The look suited her well, and I soon felt a coil forming inside. A few seconds later, she snapped back to reality and backed away. Eleanor blushed; her eyes darted to the ground. "W-Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Y-Y-You k-k-k-kissed me!" She stuttered. Her cheeks grew rosier than before. Her shyness made her so adorable to tease.

I leaned forward, a sly smirk formed on my lips. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Y-You said you didn't like me, remember? You rejected me after I-" She squeaked when I kissed her again. And again. And again. And again. Finally she pushed me away and backed up against the wall. Watching how I licked my lips in satisfaction, she covered her mouth in embarrassment. I chuckled, wondering if she knew how every innocent action of hers tempted me to pull off something crazy.

'_So adorable.'_ I mused in my head.

Eleanor frowned at my amusement. "Dr. Crane, if this is a joke, please stop it. I hate it when people play with my feelings. I don't want to be hurt again. Not like before," Her voice strained upon meeting my gaze. She turned away with a grimacing look, clutching her arm tightly.

"Who said I was joking?"

I grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head. Her back slammed against the wall hard, causing her to wince.

"Eleanor Chalk. I don't think I have ever been this serious in my life," I sternly whispered. She lifted her eyes to meet mine, her lips quivered slightly. I sighed.

"I know I have said some things that had hurt your feelings. Right now, this is the most difficult thing I have ever done or said to anyone."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to face her properly. My right fingers intertwined itself with her hand. I never knew how small they felt in mine.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. It took me twenty days just to figure out where my true feelings lie. All my life, I have only known the concept of fear, power and logic, poking through every crevasse of the human mind to understand what drives us to the end of our lives. After you left, my whole world felt so empty. I couldn't stop thinking about you. For someone who has never been loved before, I never knew how to love someone, to hold someone in my arms and comfort them with sweet nothings. I'm not the perfect man, but dear Eleanor, you have taught me so much for someone as young and beautiful as you."

I released my hold on her arms and wrapped mine around her shoulders.

"So grant me this much, for a fool who is in love with you. For a fool who loves you and only you."

That was all I said before I released her. Eleanor stared back at me innocently, her baby blue eyes filled with wonder. Whether she would accept or reject me was entirely up to her – something to let her decide for the night. Regardless of the answer, I was content. I adjusted my glasses and smiled.

"Looks like the session has ended. I guess I'll take my leave first."

Just as my hand reached for the doorknob, something tugged at my coat from behind. I glanced behind my shoulder at Eleanor who shyly looked up to me. The sweet smile on her face revealed the answer sooner than I thought.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

"You seemed real happy, Johnny boy. Care to share?"

The Joker walked beside me as the guards escorted us to our cells. The clown leaned closer to my side, trying to peek at the photo in my hand. He whistled. "Who's the little cutie over here?"

"None of your business," I curtly replied, pocketing Eleanor's photo in my pants.

"Touché. Didn't know the Scarecrow's got a girl. Maybe I should get one of my own too."

I chuckled. "If you ever find one."

"Hey you never know! I got quite a few fans online voting me as the sexiest criminal in Gotham. Dubbed me the Clown Prince too!"

"How fitting."

"Oh put a sock in that old sarcastic mouth of yours, Johnny boy." Joker nudged my shoulder excitedly. "So what's her name? If I'm lucky, maybe I could swing by her place and-"

I snapped at the clown's direction, threatening him with a glare. Joker cheekily grinned from ear to ear. "-Pass her a message from you."

I simmered down, turning my attention back to the approaching cell.

"Ooooh, Johnny Boy you got it real bad for her! Relax I was just teasing you. But seriously…" While the guards looked away Joker leaned closer to whisper into my ear. "I'm thinking of getting outta here once my boys gather the stuff to blow this joint. Thinking of doing some 'shopping' while I'm out. Christmas is coming after all, you need anything?"

I pondered for a bit. I couldn't visit her now. That was the end of my bargain I kept with Bane – No contact with Eleanor until his arrival or else. Then, I would have control of the Court and she would be mine forever. I missed her terribly. Often, needing to find other sources of pleasure and content to distract myself from my urges. Life as Scarecrow helped slightly, but the yearning was still there. And the need. Oh God, the dying need of her was forever strong, aching in every inch of my mind and body.

The love I felt for Eleanor was both a pleasure and a pain to endure. If it weren't evident enough, her empty presence alone was killing me slowly like a thorn piercing my spine.

As consolation, I have been provided with pictures and news of how she had been coping with life. Day after day, Eleanor had grown to be more mature and beautiful – feeding my craving for her. Yet, even with these consolations how long could I survive without Eleanor? There were times when I watched her from the distance every time I caught the chance to escape. It was hard, but the wait was to be worth it. After all, who wouldn't want to stay with their loved one in the end of the world?

'_Well, it has been two years. Perhaps a present would suffice. Hmmm…'_

I whispered back into Joker's ear. His lips stretched in a Cheshire cat grin. "Johnny Boy you sure know how to make a woman happy!"

"Just remember to drop it off at her place once you get it. I'll pass you the address. But do anything and I'll hunt you down myself."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say~" Joker sang as the guards brought him to his cell.

"_If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it! _

_If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it!_

_Wha-oh-OH-oh-oh-ooh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-OH!"_

The guards slammed the cell door shut, cutting off Joker's out of pitch singing. But the door could never silence his maniacal laughter. Once in my cell, I lay on my bed and pulled the covers over me. I felt for the device I had hidden under the mattress and pulled it out. I plugged the earphones into my ears and played the cassette. At the melodious sound, a soft sigh of relief escaped my lips.

"_I love you, Dr. Crane. I love you."_

"I love you too, Eleanor," I whispered.

Sleep never felt so serene that night.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

Phew! Its done! I bet you all figured out by now what Crane got for little Eleanor. ;D

Merry X'mas everybody! Do review and fave. Hope you enjoy the story! See ya in the next chapter! :D


	10. Precious

** The Chalk Girl**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modeled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** I would like to thank you readers, reviewers and my friends for supporting this fic as always despite my slow updates. I really owe you guys an apology. Readers, please put in all your votes in the **TDKR Poll on my fanfic profile page** so that I can tally them altogether. (For those unsure, simply click on my author name link **CMXC **and select **"Vote Now!"** to access the poll.) Once again, here are the poll results so far:

Both = 3 vote

Neither = 1 vote

Bane = 17 votes

Crane = 24 votes

If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer. I can't really PM the non-fanfic users (and users who block PM feature) so, here are my replies to them!

**aussierose89:** Glad you enjoy the story, hope you would enjoy the next few chapters too. Wow, looks like some tough competition for Bane and Crane now. If you haven't, please put your vote in the poll on my profile page so that I can tally them with the rest.

**Jes:** Haha well we'll see how the story goes for the two of them. J

**Guest (1/13/13):** Lol, well you're not the only one who thinks he's sexy. XD

**Annei:** For the WIN indeed! Thank you for supporting my fanfic!

**Alice:** Well then, another vote for Crane! Thank you for supporting my fanfic (and the pairing)!

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

_'No, she will never love me. She will hate me. Despise me. Fear me. Just like the others.'_

_"Eleanor Chalk. I don't think I have ever been this serious in my life."_

_"… What have I done?"_

_"All my life, I have only known the concept of fear, power and logic."_

_"You seemed real happy, Johnny boy. Care to share?"_

_"I love you, Dr. Crane. I love you."_

_"I love you too, Eleanor."_

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**Chapter Nine: Precious**

Before I was hospitalized, my Mother suffered a relapse. She had forgotten to take her medication and was thrashing the house in frustration. When I tried to calm her down, she pushed me down the stairs, calling me a 'Tramp'. I heard a sickening crack with every step my body rolled across and fell upon. At the bottom of the stairs, I blacked out and later found myself in the hospital. Broken ribs and fractures were the least of my concerns when the Nurse entered my ward. The stern caretaker said my Father rushed back home after four missed calls to my cell phone. She also told me that a friend had paid a visit while I was asleep. My heart fluttered at the instant thought of Jonathan.

The next day, Jonathan came to visit me again. This time he brought flowers – Tulips, my favourite. It was so weird to call the doctor by his first name, but it was funny watching him fumble and blush every time I did. The sweet and gentle side of the arrogant genius was something I cherished greatly. Everyday, I waited excitedly for his next visit, no matter how short they were. One day, he asked me out of the blue:

"Eleanor… do you love me?"

I gave my absolute word without hesitation and Jonathan went silent. With a thinly pressed smile, he excused himself early. I was unaware of his intentions, naively thinking he was tired from work. A week later, he came again. This time for a whole new purpose.

You see Jonathan Crane had a dream. A dream that one day people would stop looking down on him and learn the power of Fear. When that happens, he believed that he would finally get the respect he deserved. My heart began to tremble hearing his chilling words. But in spite of the conflict of emotions and pain in my body, I felt sad for him.

"Why do you resent the idea? This city was insane to begin with. The corrupted cesspool of Gotham feeds that. With Fear, everyone would reveal their true selves and no longer hide behind their 'masks' in the consuming chaos." He smiled eerily. "Won't that be wonderful?"

I weakly shook my head. Crane looked back at me, confused. When he asked for my reason, I told him as calmly as I could, "Even if you have all the power and knowledge in the world, the people would live in fear. No one would love you or sincerely respect you. No friends, no family, not even acquaintances..." I looked up to his anticipating eyes. "Won't you feel lonely then?"

Jonathan's gaze lingered at my face for a moment, contemplating the question. A moment later, he gently wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into an embrace. He laid his chin on top of my head.

"That's why you are here," He whispered softly.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_Gotham City, December 2012_

Three months had passed since Eleanor's death. Gotham was in ashes. The people were in agony, most of them anticipating the death that awaits them.

Eleanor's funeral was conducted in the yard outside the Chalk family's old residence. Her grave was marked by a wooden cross and a tulip salvaged from Eleanor's room. After tears were shed and prayers were spoken, everyone paid their respects and moved on. Detective Blake had gone back to assist Gordon in helping the refugees. Mr. Chalk had recently joined the numbers in hiding, mourning for his wife and child. As for Pastel, she decided to carry on Eleanor's will and joined Blake's team as a runner.

Time had laid dust upon the Messenger's old home. The repaired household traps were all that kept looters away. Sadly, they don't say the same for the roaches and rats. Pastel looked around the room of her departed friend. Stationary and papers cluttered the cedar desk. A worn-out lamp sat on the table, its neck slanting to the side. A bookshelf sat across the table with half of its contents strewn all over the floor. Below the foggy window laid a white blanket tossed to the side below the bed, barely hiding the boxes below it. Maps of intricate floor plans and newspaper clippings covered the chalk graffiti walls. Pastel recalled the article on the far left.

**"SCARECROW ARRESTED! KIDNAPPED GIRL FOUND!" **

Upon closer inspection, the article included a report on the incident.

_"The Victim's Father – Dr. Chalk testified that he was on his way to meet Dr. Jonathan Crane (aka Scarecrow) in his cell when he was knocked out from behind. When he woke up, Dr. Chalk realized that his keycard was stolen and that Crane had escaped. The assailant was believed to be one of Crane's men who snuck in to free his employer. While Crane has been arrested, his accomplice is still at large." _

Pastel chuckled. It was only half the story she overheard from Gordon's men. Crane's accomplice was no ordinary man. He was suspected to be the liaison between Crane and Ra's Ah Ghul. Unfortunately, the security footage couldn't capture the man's identity and leading to a case gone cold. She sighed.

Since the broadcast, Pastel has been keeping tabs on the Mercs and activities amongst the criminals. Notorious gangs have been growing around the streets, picking on the fugitives and stealing supplies. Joker's group was the toughest to deal with - unpredictable, deadly and insane. But that won't stop her. Pastel was determined not to let Eleanor's death be in vain.

She fiddled with the pen on the desk, recalling the crazy plans they plotted in this room. The fond times when she would nag at Eleanor to clean her mess up. The woman's small laugh would echo in the room, lightening the stressful mood. Who knew that memories of small talk would become so precious?

Pastel placed the pen back and crossed over the pile of books strewn across the floor. It was time to pack, not to reminisce. As much as she had liked to keep the room as it was, Pastel needed to collect something important. She had forgotten about it until she found it missing among her stash. Opening the bed cabinet, Pastel was surprised to find it cluttered. If there was one place Eleanor kept neat, it was this cabinet for sure! Suspicious, she searched the cabinets' contents and realized the problem.

"I didn't think you were a Sentimentalist."

Pastel snapped to the window to her right. Sitting on the windowsill was the smirking cat burglar dangling a tiny red box by its silver ribbon. Pastel growled, "Selina…"

"Aww, is that anyway to treat your mentor?" The Catwoman purred.

Pastel rose to her feet, swinging a roundhouse kick at the intruder. Catwoman ducked to her left, throwing the box in the air. She slinked into the room gracefully, bringing her arm up to parry Pastel's offensive attack. "You mean _ex-_mentor?" Pastel huffed, swinging another punch at the brunette.

Selina smirked, grabbing Pastel's arm and swung her across the room. Pastel slammed against the wall with a cry, falling heavily onto the floor. The impact sent a few article scraps scattering down from the board. Selina held her hand out just in time for the box to land on it- safe and sound. "For the record, you guys would have been dead on the streets if it weren't for me."

The raven-haired woman cursed silently and wiped her mouth.

"How's your old man doing?" Selina asked while inspecting the box in her hand.

"Retired." Pastel massaged her sore arm, casting her gaze to the door. "Busted his knee in a gun fight."

Before the Messengers were established, Pastel and Eleanor had undergone training and picked up self-defense classes. Among their teachers were Pastel's father – a gun-for-hire who became a local firearms instructor – and Selina Kyle. Being one of her father's contacts, Pastel trusted her, but Eleanor never did. The Cat Burglar was slippery and cunning, always having her eyes on the prize. Their different views in morality forced Eleanor to leave Selina's tutelage. Pastel didn't believe her best friend's words, until the masked thief revealed her true colours and left her for the cops.

Selina smirked. "Well you haven't changed since we last met."

"Same to you. Now give that back!" Pastel leaned forward to snatch the box, only for Selina to lift it out of her reach. The woman's lips curled into a sly grin. "Why should I? Eleanor's never fond of accessories. Maybe I should keep it."

"Its one of her personal keepsakes," Pastel snarled, her glare hardened at the Brunette. "Now hand it over, or else."

Selina laughed. "Or what? Shoot me? Don't make me laugh! You could never bring yourself to kill. Its no wonder your father called you a failure."

Pastel gritted her teeth. She was ready to put Selina through hell, all right. Give her the smacking of a century. However, something held her back. And it wasn't her conscience. She took a deep breath and simmered down. It was no use getting mad at her.

_"She's not worth it."_ Eleanor would always tell her.

Taking another deep breath, Pastel let out a sigh. "Look, it's been a long day. I just want to pass her father what left of her. So just hand over the box and I won't tell the cops on you, okay?"

"Now why would I do that?"

"Because I would have been the one hanging from the bridge if it weren't for _her_."

Selina stopped fiddling with the box at the woman's confession. Tears had bubbled in Pastel's eyes, smearing the mascara down to her cheeks. "I was there before she died. I was ready to sacrifice myself to save her. But she… she pushed me away and got herself caught by Bane."

She let out a choked chuckle. Covering her face with her nail-polished hands. "But you wouldn't know about that. You weren't there… You weren't freakin' there! So don't go toying with her possessions like she owed them to you! God damn it!" Pastel cried.

The emotional outburst surprised Selina. She could never get Pastel to open up like she did. But Eleanor always had a way with these things. She would be lying if the awkward silence did not make her a tad guilty.

"I was there."

Pastel stared at the brunette in surprise as her mentor cast a glance at the city outside.

"I watched the… funeral from afar. Couldn't stick around long with all the cops and Mercs going around," Selina confessed. "We may not have clicked, but… I did kind of respect Eleanor. She… and the Batman… made me realize some things…"

Selina stared at the box momentarily and back to her old student. A serious expression surfaced in her stare. "Bane's killing of Eleanor was meant to send a brash message. It's not just for demoralizing the people."

Pastel grimaced. "I know…"

"No, you don't.

Pastel opened her mouth to retort, only to be stopped by Selina's tone. She eyed her ex-mentor suspiciously. Her words of concern were so sudden.

"It's a warning to anyone connected to Eleanor and her cause..." Selina grabbed her shoulder, staring at her dead in the eye. "Including you."

Pastel stared at Selina wide-eyed. The fear in her eyes was slowly replaced by anger. "That son of a bitch…"

"And its not just you. This house, her friends and family... they are all in danger of being eliminated. Even if its not the Mercs, the Blackgate prisoners will be after those who support the Bat."

Colour drained from Pastel's face. "Mr. Chalk… We have to warn him."

"He's on his own for that."

"NO! I'm not leaving him! Eleanor sacrificed herself for him too!"

"You don't owe him anything."

"I OWE her that!" Pastel yelled, balling her fingers into a fist. She walked over to the desk, seething in anger. Her leather boot knocked the chair down in frustration. She swore.

"Fine, tell the cops if you want. Just listen. There are some things I can't explain to you now. But I promise when the time is right... I tell you everything."

"But-"

"He'll be fine." Pastel was about to retort when Selina held her hand up. "Trust me. If he's in the safe house with the cops, he'll still have a chance for now. And you don't want to fight Bane. He's too powerful for you."

Pastel bit her lip, turning to the Messenger's group photo on Eleanor's desk. "Isn't there anything I can do?"

Selina hesitated on her reply. It was the same question everyone always wondered. But death doesn't come with a warning. It just does. Selina had seen it happen too often in this city. First her family, then her friends… She wondered if she did the right thing today. The helplessness in her student was something she hated seeing. Maybe she should have put it on a softer tone. But that wasn't her style. She just hoped that Kelsey would buck up and move on. After a moment of silence, Selina took a step forward. "Kelsey?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something I should tell you. The truth is, I-"

All of a sudden, a shot rang out from behind her. Selina whipped around to see a small hole cracked in the glass window. The women froze as they heard someone yelling.

"You idiot! Didn't I tell you to shoot at them on my signal?"

"B-But Boss, I-"

Pastel gasped as she spotted a familiar green-haired man in a suit in the apartment opposite the room. A wicked smile cracked across his pale face.

"Oh forget it! Take them out, boys!"

On instinct, Selina ran for the door, pulling Pastel by her arm. Bullets razed the apartment in their race towards the living room. "Get down!" Selina yelled.

The two women ducked to the floor as glass shards flew across the room, furniture were shot to bits. A long, sinister laugh echoed from outside. Pastel watched in horror as her home was decimated piece by piece. A bullet grazed the wooden frame, startling her. Selina nudged her side. "Come on! If you can't run, at least crawl!"

Pastel nodded and both women slowly made their way to the door. In a flash, she rose to a squat and pulled the door open. Once they were out, Pastel quickly slammed the door behind her. The agonizing wait lasted for ten minutes before the firing ceased.

"What the hell… since when was Joker involved with you guys?" Selina demanded.

"Us? What about you? Didn't you steal from him before?"

"Well, only a couple of his stash… but-"

"Argh! Forget it!" Pastel threw her hands up in frustration. "He's probably here to loot the place just like the others. I better report this to Blake."

Selina raised a brow. "Since when were _you_ so chummy with the cops?"

"Never was. But its beats sitting here moping like a sad drunk."

"True." Selina rose to her feet. "Well, I guess that's my cue to leave."

Pastel cleared her throat, catching the Cat Burglar's attention. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Selina stared at her innocently. "Not even the box?"

Pastel returned a deadpanned stare as Selina groaned. "Fine, you spoilsport. Here's your stupid-" Selina paused, feeling her empty pockets. She hesitantly turned to Pastel with an awkward grin. "Oops."

This was going to be a long day…

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

At last! A Chapter is out! Thank God! Thank you readers for supporting me thus far. I hope you enjoyed the story thus far. If you do, please leave a review or fav this story! I will be away in Japan for the next two weeks, so I won't be able to update for awhile. Rest assured, this story ain't dying. :D


	11. Familiarity

** The Chalk Girl**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modeled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** I would like to thank you readers, reviewers and my friends for supporting this fic as always. Readers, please put in all your votes in the **TDKR Poll on my fanfic profile page** so that I can tally them altogether. (For those unsure, simply click on my author name link **CMXC **and select **"Vote Now!"** to access the poll.) If for some reason you can't access the poll (e.g. no Fanfiction account), then please state in your review which option you vote for so that I can tally them altogether here. The poll only counts **one reader per vote**, so choose wisely! Once again, here are the poll results so far:

Neither = 1 vote

Both = 7 votes

Bane = 24 votes

Crane = 31 votes

It looks like our crazy doctor is in the lead again! Hoo boy… we got quite a battle going on here. Seriously, it's like a shipping war erupting in the reviews. ^^;

So anyway I have returned from my trip and I apologise for the delay. This chapter was meant to be posted yesterday, but unfortunately it was half-done when the torturous hell (all females go through) left me in bed for the entire day. If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer. I can't really PM the non-fanfic users (and users who block PM feature) so, here are my replies to them!

**China Dang:** Haha well we'll see how the story goes for the two of them.

**Aussierose89:** Cool, I hope you will enjoy this chapter!

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

"_No one would love you or sincerely respect you. No friends, no family, not even acquaintances... Won't you feel lonely then?"_

"_That's why you are here."_

"_I didn't think you were a Sentimentalist."_

"_Because I would have been the one hanging from the bridge if it weren't for her."_

"_Bane's killing of Eleanor was meant to send a brash message. It's not just for demoralizing the people."_

"_Mr. Chalk… We have to warn him."_

"_And its not just you. This house, her friends and family... they are all in danger of being eliminated."_

"_You idiot! Didn't I tell you to shoot at them on my signal?"_

"_Since when was Joker involved with you guys?_

"_Aren't you forgetting something?"_

"_Just listen. There are some things I can't explain to you now. But I promise when the time is right... I tell you everything."_

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**Chapter Ten: Familiarity**

"Do you know how to use a gun?"

"Only for Self-Defense."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

I pursed my lips. "No."

The bearded Merc scoffed, setting his sniper rifle in position on the rooftop's edge. "You have a lot to learn, _woman_."

The day after I was forced to join the League of Shadows, I was brought to train with the other rookies. Nobody wanted to pair with me, so Bane set Barsad to be my personal trainer. The experience? Bloody Terrific. Since day one, the Second-in-Command ranked third on my personal Black List. Not only was he a deadshot sniper; he was a smoking sadist in the morning. If I was late for practice, he would send me running around the barracks in a tank top, sweatpants and bare-footed.

"Your attacks are too weak. Put more strength in them," He coolly instructed.

I did as I told, at least to keep his foul-smelling mouth shut. Earlier, I was sent to meet a scouting Merc at an anonymous rooftop for a surveillance update. Much to my great displeasure, Barsad was ordered to escort me in case I decided to give the slip. The mission went fine until some thugs from Joker's gang came guns blazing and wounded the scout.

"You didn't have to kill them," I said, glancing at the corpses lying in a pool of blood and tainted snow. The Merc's way of dealing with 'pests' was not a pleasant sight.

"Orders are orders." Barsad coldly replied, reloading his rifle. Noticing my stubborn glare, he grunted. "I don't like this as much as you do, _woman_."

"I have a name."

"And until you earned your place, you have no need for one." Barsad bluntly replied, turning back to the building across us. "Now do me a favor and keep quiet."

I clenched my fists and quietly followed him. Mercs never showed sympathy or remorse. To him, murder was the same as slaughtering a chicken for breakfast. Naturally we had our disagreements. Though I admit I enjoyed watching his blood pressure rise.

In the League of Shadows, there were no friends or families, only comrades. Your name and past status mean nothing. Your weaknesses are discriminated. Your identity is stripped away. And worse of all, if you do not share the same view with others, you are on your own. I was fine being ostracized. Never could understand their unwavering loyalty to Bane's cause. I was content with having my own room at least. A shame I had to erase every chalk drawing before the daily routine check.

It seemed that the Triggerman returns to this base to report any suspicious activity to Bane – including the CIA's attempt of retaking Gotham from within. Whoever the person was, he or she was now hidden among the citizens, beyond my reach. So even if I can't escape this damn fortress, I can find some evidence and figure out some way to get the information to Pastel or the cops. For nights, I memorized our scouting routes, routines, networks and hideout exits – anything that could help in my future plot to escape. But Gotham City Hall was no cake in the walk. All exits and sewer networks heavily guarded. Any small openings would be blocked by Bane's countermeasures. Taking mercs out one by one would be easy, but dealing with a whole bunch was suicidal.

As a messenger, I was the first to receive news from the city. My tasks involved bringing in daily reports and information from the patrolling scouts and Mercs to Bane, Barsad… and Crane. Much to my displeasure, Crane and Bane are officially in cahoots. So meetings with Crane have been rather awkward and terribly uncomfortable. The moment our gazes meet, he would toss any work aside and make his move on me. From small chats, arguments, hugs and kisses. Everything he did, drove me up the wall. So one day, I brought the situation up with Bane. But guess what he said?

"If you can't handle one man, how are you going to handle one in a real fight?" Bane mused. I was sure he was smirking behind his mask.

Asshole.

Speaking of Bane, he has been acting strange lately. His cruel words have a twist of tenderness. His strength held back whenever we exchanged blows. He even poked fun at me when he catches the chance. Sometimes, I just felt relaxed and safe. There was no tension. No need for fear. Only a lingering sense of familiarity between us. Though I barely knew him, it felt like a long lost reunion. How strange.

A month ago, I went to the training grounds earlier than usual. Around the underground corridor, I heard noise coming from the training arena. Curious, I walked towards the entrance. The sound of a sandbag being knocked around was not too far off. Approaching the viewing platform, I wondered who it was practicing at this hour. As I stared down at the arena, I held my breath at the sight below.

Bane's fist swung towards the sandbag, leaving a mark on the burlap surface. The brutality hidden under his usual cold demeanor exploded in the form of pummeling fury. The strength in his bare hands was akin to a grizzly bear's - Absolutely terrifying and jaw dropping.

It was rare to see Bane training. He was either looming over us at the platform, or attending other businesses. Taking the chance, I noted every detail. At every swing his arms made, droplets of perspiration flew from his sweating biceps. His expressions were hard to read from the distance. Yet seconds later I found myself staring longer than necessary at his broad back. I quickly slapped the thought away, focusing on his punches. Despite his huge size, Bane was agile in his movements. With one final blow, Bane let out a gruff roar and punched the sand bag hard. The chain holding the bag broke from the sheer force, following the flying bag out of the arena ring and landing on the ground heavily. The sandbag deflated into a broken heap as grains of sand poured from the torn fabric. I stood rooted to the ground, my eyes unable to tear away from the monster before me. A big gulp descended down my throat.

"You're actually early today."

I lowered my eyes to Bane. His curious gaze locked at my stunned face. I took another gulp.

"Relax. It is not a crime to watch." He motioned me down to the arena. I ran down the steps, making my way towards the arena. Bane tossed an item to which I instinctively caught. It was a roll of boxing gauze.

"Spar with me."

I shot him a surprised look. "What?"

Bane punched straight through the air at my direction, turning to me nonchalantly. "I said spar with me."

My jaw slackened. Witnessing his strength must have left me more shaken than I thought.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Unfortunately, Bane left me no room to debate and soon I was up on the ring – or rather dragged up to the ring – with my hands wrapped in gauze and my mind dreading the possibility of being bedridden for life. Noticing my trembling fists, Bane chuckled. "There is no need to fear, my dear. I will not kill you in the ring."

I stopped trembling and scoffed. "Those are _comforting_ words from someone like you."

"That is why I will teach you to conquer fear." Bane said, sauntering towards me.

We circled each other, holding our arms up. Bane swiftly threw a punch at my left, which I dodged and went for a kick at his leg. His shin only twitched for a moment. Bane grabbed my leg and tossed me to the side. I tried to stand, but Bane pinned me down and held my arm against my back in a shoulder lock. I bit my lip at the excruciating pain while Bane leaned dangerously close to my ear.

"You lack in strength, Eleanor," He whispered then pushed me away. "But you have speed and quick thinking! Use them against me!"

I swiped a lock of hair aside and launched into a defensive stance. Frankly, Bane was too much of a bulk to feel any of my hits. Still, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. There must be a weak point somewhere. I just have to find it. My mind wandered to the hunting trips with Father…

'_Everything has a weakness. Even the strongest animals…'_

I observed Bane's movement for signs of weakness. His mask had always posed an interest to me. The mechanics were complicated – a distorted shape of a spider crawling out from his mouth. An idea sprung forth. Bane charged at me, this time throwing his fists forward in a combo. I ducked again and punched his gut. Before Bane could grab me again, I quickly ducked and took a step back. In a flash, I flipped backwards, sending a powerful somersault kick up his mask. Bane's head reeled back, causing him to back away. Landing on my feet, I watched in amazement as Bane went down on one knee at the other end of the ring.

'_I did it!'_ I ecstatically cheered.

But something wasn't right. Bane was clutching his face in agony.

"Bane?" I was starting to get worried. Quickly, I rushed to his side. "Bane! What's wrong?"

Bane's face contorted into a painful expression. He was gasping for air, inhaling short breaths in panic. Two tubes dangled lifelessly from his mask, making long hisses.

'_Some kind of gas leaking out?' _

Bane tried to push the tubes back into his mask, but his efforts were in vain. Without thinking, I grabbed the tubes and pushed them back into place. As each tube was reconnected, a soft hiss sound was emitted from the mask. Bane sighed in relief, inhaling deep, slow breaths. It didn't take a genius to know what the mask was for.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded.

"W-Wha…"

"That you are under medication!" I snapped.

Bane coughed. "More importantly… why didn't you take the chance to kill me?"

I glared at Bane. "You may be my enemy, but I will never sink_ that_ low."

"But I caused you agony. Separated you from your loved ones." Bane breathed deeply, his dark pupils locked with mine. "You would still spare a monster like me?"

I took a deep breath, watching his curious face. "Let me make myself clear. I have no intentions of becoming a monster like you. If I did, the sacrifices of friends and families till now will be for nothing. So no matter what happens, I will _never_ become you." My glare hardened at his unwavering gaze. **"Never."**

Bane closed his eyes and laughed in a dangerously low tone. I stared at him in disbelief. "What's so funny?"

Bane raised his hand and patted my head. I stiffened at the sudden contact. His enormous, warm hands made me feel like a child. His hand then lowered to the right side of my face, caressing my cheek. Bane's eyes wryly lingered at my curious eyes.

"We shall see..." He whispered in a gentle tone.

Just before I could retort, his body slackened and his head fell right on top of my lap. Seconds passed and he began to snore. I stared at him incredulously. '_Did he just… passed out… on my LAP?'_

As my mind tried to wrap around the situation at hand, Barsad entered the arena. The moment he saw our positions, the merc froze on his spot.

"Don't just stand there! Help him up!" I yelled.

He could never look me in the eye without an awkward silence since that day.

The truth was, I was indeed conflicted. Sure I could have let Bane die right there and then. But I needed him alive. And the pained expression he made was unbearable to watch. Too many times I had seen it on the faces of my father's patients. They writhed. They struggled. They cried. The pain so agonizing that it drove them insane. Serenity only surfaced they were sedated and finally locked away in isolation – alone and vulnerable to their fears. Back then, I could do nothing but watch.

This time, I will no longer sit on the sidelines.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_Gotham City Hall, Gotham City, October 2012_

"So you figured it out?"

I stood across Bane's desk, crossing my arms. "The meeting for yesterday's mission was outside my old college apartment. Hard to be a coincidence for Joker to plan an ambush there."

"I only sent Joker to erase traces of your previous existence. I gave you my word on your friend's safety," Bane replied solemnly, his eyes turned deadly serious. "_You, _on the other hand, fired a shot and comprised the mission."

"You know how dangerous Joker can be! Do you think he will obediently follow your ideals and rules? That maniac thrives on chaos!"

"In time, I will make him bend to my will. Your friend is safe now, and that's all that matters. But if you choose to disobey my orders, I will be have you severely dealt with," Bane threatened with a dark glare. "Is that clear?"

I sucked back my anger. "Yes… sir."

"Now go back to your quarters. You're done for today."

I clenched my fists and turned on my heel towards the door.

"Eleanor."

I snapped my head back to Bane. He fiddled with his pen. "Tomorrow at the arena. Same time as usual," He said.

I nodded in reply. There was a knock and the door opened from behind. Barsad briskly entered the office. "Sir, the Mercs on sewer patrol found something."

"What is it?"

"A body, sir,"Barsad informed. "Next to a mural of chalk drawings."

I stood paralyzed to the ground. My face instantly paled.

"Was it the missing member of the Messengers?" Bane checked.

"Yes sir. Aaron Russell, also known as Aerosol."

'_Oh God…'_

"… Take him to the shooting rally. Let his body be used for the recruits' target practice," Bane coldly ordered.

I stared at Bane in horror, my face now stark white. Barsad nodded and prepared to take his leave. Without thinking, I took the first leap.

"WAIT!"

Both men turned to me at my outburst. I gritted my teeth, biting back my anger. "That boy deserves a proper burial."

Bane remained unfazed. "There are many bodies strewn around the city, Eleanor. What makes this one so special?"

"He fought alongside me as my comrade. He died saving my life."

"Soldiers die in the battlefield all the time…"

"BUT HE'S NOT A SOLDIER!" The sudden outburst surprised the two men. I clenched my fists tightly. "He was… just a boy."

Barsad scrutinized his eyes at me. "What are you trying to get at, woman?"

"I'm saying I will be damned if I let asses like you use him as shooting practice. I'm going to give him a burial myself…" I shot a glare at Bane. "And you aren't going to stop me." I turned on my heel and stormed out of the office.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

"Is it ok to leave things like this, sir?" Barsad asked.

"Yes. Let her have the body. It's useless to us anyway." Bane leaned against his chair, continuing to read the remaining paper work.

"Understood. But why would this girl be so important to our cause?"

Bane remained silent for a moment, pursing his lips behind the mask. Memories of the distant past flickered through his mind. "That, Barsad… Is a story for another time."

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

So it appears Bane knows Eleanor somehow… and oh god Aerosol's body is found! (Gasp!) Up next, expect sorrow, memories and some extra (words are censored due to confirmed effect of nose-bleeding) moments! So prepare those tissues and buckets. And once again I would like to thank the readers thus far. I hope you enjoyed the story~ If you do, please leave a review or fav this story!


	12. Farewell

** The Chalk Girl**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Batman or the Dark Knight trilogy. I only own my OC, Eleanor Chalk and the other OC, Pastel, modeled after an awesome friend.

**A/N:** Ok first, I really owe you guys an apology. Been stuck prepping for my university and working freelance that I realized I had not updated this fanfic for a month or so. (QAQ OMG Why?) Plus there was this idea for another fanfic that has been bugging me… so any way, I'M SO SORRY FOR LEAVING YOU GUYS IN SUSPENSE FOR SO LONG! (Profusely apologizing and bowing)

I would like to thank you readers, reviewers and my friends for supporting this fic as always. Readers, please put in all your votes in the **TDKR Poll on my fanfic profile page** so that I can tally them altogether. (For those unsure, simply click on my author name link **CMXC **and select **"Vote Now!"** to access the poll.) Once again, here are the poll results so far:

Neither = 1 vote (Unregistered Readers: 0)

Both = 7 votes (Unregistered Readers: 2)

Bane = 21 votes (Unregistered Readers: 4)

Crane = 35 votes (Unregistered Readers: 3)

Holy crap, Crane is taking the poll by storm. Literally. O.O;;

Will the Tyrant ever catch up in the polls or will the Doctor prevail?

If you have any questions you have for the characters or the story, feel free to PM or review. I will do my best to give you my best answer. I can't really PM the non-fanfic users (and users who block PM feature) so, here are my replies to them!

**China Dang:** Haha well we'll see how the story goes for the two of them.

**Guest (5/3/13):** Thank you very much for the review. And glad you enjoy it so far. Hehe, both Crane and Bane have their good points. It's hard to pick between them. Plus I think a shipping war is about to start. XD

**Em:** Haha thank you! :D

**Guest (5/13/13):** Aww thank you. Very happy that my OCs are well-loved too. Believe me, it was heart-breaking writing Aerosol's death, but it is unfortunately the harsh truth Eleanor must face in Gotham. Don't fret, there will be more Crane moments too.

**WARNING:** Flames will not be tolerated and certain chapters of the story may contain swearing, along with disturbing, violent and sexual content. You have been warned.

Anyways enjoy the story! :D

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**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

_PREVIOUSLY ON THE CHALK GIRL..._

"_You have a lot to learn, woman."_

"_I have a name."_

"_And until you earned your place, you have no need for one." _

"_Spar with me."_

"_Those are comforting words from someone like you."_

"_That is why I will teach you to conquer fear."_

"_Why didn't you take the chance to kill me?"_

"_You may be my enemy, but I will never sink that low."_

"_I only sent Joker to erase traces of your previous existence. I gave you my word on your friend's safety. You, on the other hand, fired a shot and compromised the mission."_

"_BUT HE'S NOT A SOLDIER!"_

"_Is it ok to leave things like this, sir?"_

"_That, Barsad… Is a story for another time."_

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

**Chapter Eleven: Farewell**

Around five in the late afternoon, the sun sank down to the icy landscape. A reddish hue burned in the grey blue horizon, making the clouds glow orange. It was a beautiful sight for a sorrowful day.

The Mercs surprisingly handed over Aerosol's corpse without a fight. Bane must have changed his mind. Barsad and I took one of Bane's trucks down to the city. Untouched land was scarce in Gotham. Buildings and destruction piled up the wasteland of a city. The sewers were no longer safe. Even the cemetery was battered and torn up from the previous bombings. Some tombs were crushed from the debris, others scratched or vandalized by bullets. Grave robbers desecrated the coffins, looting clothes and any valuables from the dead. With that in mind, there was only one place where Aerosol's body would be safe.

Stopping along the road, I stepped out of the trailer, gently carrying Aerosol's body out. My eyes squint in pain at the blinding light. Making our way to the wired fence, I felt the burning stares on my back. Barsad gave a nod to the guard who opened the gate. In winter, Gotham River was a stretch of frozen, fragile land. Beneath the ice, a watery grave awaits the Exiled - Unfortunate men and women who dared to cross the treacherous thin ice in hopes of escaping their terrible fate. Sadly, no one had ever succeeded.

To distribute our weight across the ice, Aerosol's body was placed in a canvas body bag on a sled. Barsad handed me a couple of rocks, weights and an ice pick, implying me to remain true to my words earlier. Without arguing, I took the ice pick and began my trek across the ice with Aerosol in tow. Every step was followed by a dangerous soft crack, reminding me of the danger below my feet. Once I reached a fair distance, I swung the ice pick down. The ice shattered after a few hits and pretty soon the hole was big enough to fit Aerosol. The water's abyss deceived its coldness with deep serenity.

I dragged the sled closer to the hole and pulled the body bag out. Unzipping it to Aerosol's chin, my eyes lowered to the cold, decaying body in my arms. He was so thin, so fragile. Three months had taken its toll. Drawing a shaky breath, I began with the eulogy.

"Aaron Russell, or to some us… 'Aerosol' the Paint Boy Wonder, was a brave boy filled with dreams. In the time I have come to know him, Aaron was a wild child from New York, who moved with his mother to Gotham to seek treatment for his Leukemia."

I shifted his bony hands to his chest – making both of them clasped in a prayer.

"Even after his mother's death at the hands of muggers, Aaron strove hard to survive on the streets. Since the day he was saved by the Batman, Aaron lived his life to the fullest while battling with his illness. Alone with no other kin or friends, Aaron worked part-time as a busker, filling the streets of Gotham with his beautiful music."

I began to fill the body bag with weights and rocks. My fingers shivered nervously from the cold.

"I remembered the day I found him on the streets like it was yesterday. His clothes were tattered, his face smudged by bruises and dirt. The can holding generous donations was tipped on the side, robbed of its dignity. In spite of his pain, he smiled and sang to me..."

The words choked at the back of my throat. I swallowed back the tears, sniffling from the cold.

"Aaron never asked for much. His motto was to live life with no regrets. He didn't care about the rules as long as he could help our cause. So I took him in, clothed him and fed him. When he first received his new name, there was nothing but pride and happiness in his eyes. In our group of 'Messengers', he became the daredevil vandalist, painting the walls of Gotham in honor of the Dark Knig…" I paused, feeling something wet flowing down my cheek.

'_Tears?' _I raised a finger to wipe the liquid away. I knew it would not be easy. But I didn't know it would be this hard. I took a moment to calm myself, and then continued. "Then one day, Aaron came up to me in my room with a solemn expression. He began to talk about his future and his Leukemia. The doctor said while it has not shown any signs of worsening, there was no improvement either. There was no way of predicting whether he would live till College or tomorrow. My heart wept for him. Such suffering was unfair to a sweet child. But Aaron disagreed. For six months, he had love and dreams, regretting nothing to date.

"If there was a gift Aaron had - It was to inspire. He had inspired us with his idealism and faith in spite of his youth. He persevered in spite of his pain. He struggled. He fell. But he always rose back to his feet. He was the hope and innocence amongst the darkness in Gotham City. He was my hope. My friend, my comrade, my brother, the son I never had…" I pursed my lips at the last sentence. "I will never forget him."

Once the eulogy ended, I zipped the body bag up again and pushed Aerosol towards the hole. With the new weights, it didn't take long before the ice below it gave way. The body bag fell through the cracks with splash. I reeled away from the hole, gritting my teeth at the cold water biting through my gloves and clothes. I watched as Aerosol's body slowly sank into the ice-cold river through the hole. In time, his body would rest in the bottom – safe and at peace. Having said my farewells to him, I wiped the tears away.

"Goodbye my friend. I'll miss you," I whispered. Standing up, I began to my trek back to the truck. The only thing filling the silence was the whistling of the cold wind. The Mercs watched as I passed by, one of them nodded in acknowledgment. Their faces wore the same grim, solemn expression. They knew what it was like to lose a comrade. The clang of the metal gate echoed behind me.

"Are you ready to go?" A deep voice suddenly intruded the silence.

I looked up in surprise to find Bane, waiting for me by the truck. My eyes darted around the streets. "Where's Barsad?"

"On patrol," He replied, trudging towards the truck. "I have another assignment for you. But first we need to head to back to City Hall,"

My shoulders slumped, only straightening when Bane glanced behind his shoulder. The drive back to base was going to be long and awkward.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

"_I still can't believe you got the gang to pull that off," Aerosol laughed on his bed. _

_Today, we snuck into Monarch Theatre after opening hours to celebrate Aerosol's birthday. It was an old movie theatre Pastel and I found in the Park Row District during our stakeouts. It took a bit of convincing for the others but they agreed to participate in a mock, short version of Les Miserables._

_I smirked. "Hey anything for the birthday boy."_

_Aerosol laughed again. "Did you see the look on Markers' face when he tried to sing that high note in 'Who am I'? His face almost turned red like a tomato!"_

_I smirked at the image of the punk belting out the note until he choked on his spit by accident. _

"_And Pastel. Dang I didn't know she could pull off Eponine's parts so well."_

_It was true. Despite her insistence she was not, Pastel was a really good actress and singer. If she worked hard enough, she could probably become a star in the future._

"_Part of the spy package, I guess," I remarked._

"_Maybe she can act in the next James Bond movie."_

"_Can you imagine James Bond singing?"_

_Aerosol pondered for a bit before shaking his head. "Nah. Totally don't fit his image."_

_Not all of us were talented on stage – heck we even screwed up some of our lines - but Aerosol was so moved he jumped out of his seat and joined in anyway. We sang, danced and laughed until the guards chased us out. I watched as he sang passionately, a beautiful smile etched on his face. His voice was heaven-sent, no doubt._

_I smiled at the boy. "You sang pretty well too you know. Ever thought of auditioning for a role in the future?"_

_Aerosol grinned ear to ear, staring at the ceiling dreamily. "Always."_

_I chuckled. The boy was filled with so many dreams. "Well if you do make it big one day, don't forget to send me a ticket."_

"_I will! And to the others too."_

_I ruffled his brown hair, earning a small laugh from the boy. Watching him smile made me feel warm and at ease. I sat on the bed and pulled the covers over his chin._

"_Eleanor?"_

"_Yeah?"_

_Aerosol turned to me innocently. "Could you sing that song again?"_

_With a sigh, I complied. "Only if it helps you sleep."_

_Aerosol whispered an excited 'Yes' before closing his eyes in anticipation. I gently stroke his hair and hummed his favourite lullaby._

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

"What is that tune you're humming?" Bane asked.

I stopped humming, staring at the streets from my window. The memory still fresh in my mind. "Just a lullaby from a long time ago."

The humming of the truck's engine overlapped with the solemn silence. Bane remained focus on the road. "It's lovely," he replied after a few minutes.

I propped my arm against the window, staring at the sun going down. Resting my chin on the palm of my hand, I continued to hum for the rest of the journey. Bane remained silent, listening peacefully.

I wondered if he heard the people sing when he brought Gotham down to its knees.

**/\\M/\\ /\\M/\\ /\\M/\\**

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Can you guess what is the lullaby Eleanor sang? Hehe, it should be easy with all the clues given. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. The Writer's block was excruciating… It's a little sad, but the endearing parts kept me going. Don't forget to review and fave. Do PM me if you have any questions. Remember, no flames! :D


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